Speaking words of comfort
for a man I never met
to people I didn’t know
Committing his eternal soul
to an unknown God
My phone providing a 21 gun salute
then Taps to honor the Marine
I read Seneca
while breathing clouds of wisdom
into the icy air
As I stood next to the vault
I realized I was standing by myself
Watching myself
Disjointed, disassociated, but grounded
like him.
An Independent Nondiscriminatory Platform With No Religious, Political, Financial, or Social Affiliations - FOUNDED 2014
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
Hosanna High Community Burial Project
True wealth is the wealth of the soul
...just a voice from the eastern Himalayan summits...
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
Life as an American poet of excellence
Musings and books from a grunty overthinker
Love Letters to the Tar Pit
Making Space for Dreams
binge thinking and other things in life
Mare Martell 
Thank you. It took me about five hours to feel like myself after doing his funeral. It was my first time leading the service.
Dude (Because, respect.). That’s got to be a favorite of mine. Maybe my all-time favorite of your poems. Those feelings of disconnection leading to a feeling of connection. All the images lead straight to the final couplet, and your sense of when to break a line is flawless. I’m blown away by this.