My Hope and Prayer…

I hope for rich tomorrows

For kinder days to come

I hope for gentle moonlit nights

And days of warming sun

I pray that equal measure

Be graced to all who live

I pray that toleration

All willingly would give

We each drag with us baggage

And all wear scars and scrapes

For trials that come from living

Not one of us escapes

And though we may be different

In many countless ways

One dream we hold in common

That some Love might come and stay….

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Et Tu Brute…

Was it an illusion

Were your intentions clear

Did you make it known

Yet I refused to hear?

Why then was I surprised

At actions that you took

The glint of blade was bright

Did I refuse to look?

The consequence of truth

The point you sharply made

Has opened up my eyes

This lesson shall not fade

As Caesar said to Marcus

When came his final day

Betrayal has a price…

And so…” Et Tu Brute”…

A Master In Rags…

This is a re-worked piece to Honor all of our Masters in Rags…

Gnarled bent aching fingers

Deftly polishes brass

Of an old well-used trumpet

Held like thin fragile glass

He finds a street corner

Plastic bowl to hold tips

He then picks up his treasure…

Closes eyes…

Purses lips…

And…He…Blows…

With talent God-given

His Blue Music flows

Over those all around him

Soon a small crowd will grow

He never looks up

Rich notes never lag

All are witnessing Genius…

He’s a Master in Rags…