Ode To Yellow

Oh, yellow
She's a picky color
For she only gets along
With about half the others

Look at her wrong
And she’ll turn green
A neutral, sickly hue
Like none you’ve ever seen

But how I love her
When she is most pure
The most vibrant color short of white
A nine, for sure

I Am

I am the fisherman headed out to sea
The horizon beyond the shore
A symbol of possibility

I am the poet lying in an empty park
Contemplating the universe to myself
As light gives in to dark

I am the alchemist changing metal to gold
Spiritual transmutations
Inexplicably unfold

I am the trusted friend, the one you know so well
The one who will be there for you
Whether in heaven or in hell

I am a prisoner shackled in the current of society
Confined by outmoded principles
With which I do not agree

I am the actor who hides behind a false face
Of a mask that covers the origins
Of ruin and disgrace

I am the child searching through the thickets to find
The secrets of a lifetime
Awaiting far beyond the mind

I am the old man rocking gently in a creaky chair
Reflecting, as I smoke my pipe
Through my long white hair

I am all of these things, as they are me
I am the fisherman returning
Home from the sea.