The Artist

It is simple to see,
to cast one’s eyes where he may.
Who, then can tell
what there is to see?
Greatness falls from the sky like snow,
and it goes unnoticed.
Imagination,
how fickle it is,
how commanding!
Do we notice that
             we
have that power?
And control it?
It is our power of
creation
that we see and use.
How few there are
who can truly see themselves.
Who can see the power
of Vision
besides those who look?

Come Inside

Come inside now, to my table
Though I’ve nothing to prepare
Know you well that were I able
I would fill this empty table,
Which sits now before you bare.
Here inside my house the laughter
Never is in short supply.
Let the banter touch the rafter!
In our friendship and our laughter
Truly does our richness lie.
As we sit beside the fire
In each other’s company
All our troubles seem less dire.
To the heavens we aspire
While the hours pass pleasantly.