It is very cold, out on the street,
as I walk alone, the Sun at my back.
All bundled up, to keep my self warm.

I walk past a house, with windows of glass,
seeing the Sun reflection, as I pass,
when a bright flash of light, with a blast of heat,
comes from the windows, reflecting the Sun.
I pause for a moment, to soak up the rays,
reflected on me on this very cold day.

He stays hidden, in the plants.
I will find him waiting there
with his patience; he has plenty.
He waits there, he won't roam,
for he is a most faithful
the silent garden gnome

Rant and rave; Lie if you must.
Your soul will crumble into dust.
A fitting end for someone like thee.
Leave us now for an eternity.

"Just start writing,"
He said to me.
"Let your thoughts go
and you will see,
the words coming forth,
like weeds from the ground
and jump to the paper,
for now they are found
to be unrestrained,
nothing in the way."
Writing, keep writing
until your hands cramp
and your brow becomes
annoyingly wet, as
I try to pull words
from my head or mouth,
to keep the flow coming,
by not going "South"
away from it all, if you please.
Get thee down on your knees,
pray to the Lord, not in vain,
calling forth all by their name.