VISTAS: An awareness of a range of time, events, or subjects. A broad Mental View.
June 4

After a while, you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts,
And presents aren't promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open,
With the grace of an adult
Not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while, you learn that
Even the sunshine burns if you get too much.

So plant your own garden
Decorate you own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure…
That you are really strong
And you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn.
With every good-bye you learn.

~ By Veronica Shoffstall ~


the pansies, snapdragons and other flora bloom in all their radiant beauty but yet I fail to see it because there is only darkness in my heart, a darkness that has been there for so long I doubt anyone or anything will ever again be able to bring light to it. and whose fault is it? mine for once believing or you for lying?


"So, then, to every man his chance -- to every man, regardless of his birth, his shining golden opportunity -- to every man his right to live, to work, to be himself, to become whatever his manhood and his vision can combine to make him -- this, seeker, is the promise of America."
- Thomas Wolfe -


"I will be glad and rejoice in thy mercy: for thou hast considered my trouble; thou hast known my soul in adversities;"
- Psalms 31:7 -


Once a vision is implanted in the mind
searching always in kind
no where to find
wined and dined
the lingering vision still implanted in the mind


songs and melodies play
rain drops upon the ground forming clay
there are no longer dragons to slay
dreams in dust and ash lay


A vision just came to me, a thought of what happens to love and relationships, why things never run at a bump less pace. it is like furniture, fine wood furniture, priceless pieces of time the really old furniture I am talking about. If that furniture sits in one place and is never touched, is never dusted, the dust collects, stealing it's beauty and it's shine. Love is like that. if we don't shake it up a bit blow of the dust that settles into a normalcy of life then we lose the beauty and the wonder of it. We lose site of it because the dust covers it, it hides it, from our view. We must remember to dust once in awhile

into the blackness
no light
deeper I fall
it's always night

search in the void
cannot see the shore

drift away into silence
a mere being
nothing more
nothing less


I want to see the sea of green
feel the warmth and the strength
know the feeling I once knew
that only he has ever seen


Old house setting abandoned and rotting have always left a sense of sadness in my heart. You look at the old walnut tree with the rotting rope hanging from it, close your eyes and you can see the children playing upon an old board swing. The front porch sagging, the windows and paint gone, along with the smell of fresh baked apple pies. I can picture the house in all it's glory, built new for some young family. Dad coming in from working the fields, mom at the oven cooking. The kids on a braided rug laying on the wooden floor, playing a game of jacks or marbles. A baby in a wooden highchair cooing in the corner.

Families ate together then, they talked they shared, but like the old house setting abandoned on the hill, so have our values been.


receding in my safe haven
the inner part of my mind
I seek solace from the storm
of emotion that rages inside

a place where I find comfort
to be alone from the world
to escape into a silent peace
of tranquility and solitude

where there are no fears
no pain from words said
no tears from unspoken truths
only peace at long last


Know how to ask. There is nothing more difficult for some people, nor for others, easier.
- Baltasar Gracian -