Wednesday, April 06, 2011

Little Pieces

a little piece of me dies each time -- it has been said
enduring the fear, I come out a little less each time
fortunate for I spend the majority away from it
regretful that I can't be more supportive

guilty for those who must stay inside and lose piece after piece
until there is nothing left and all is lost

a little piece of me dies each time
encouraged that some do get out
very proud of my son's bravery
hopeful that I can turn this into a positive

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Contact ?

Energy detected.
Could the source be in range?
What message will the data hold?
Bandwidth to system limits
Gain control to manual
Receiver tuned for maximum deflection
Quantization to 16 bit
Sample rate to Nyquist/Shannon
Buffer depth set to disk capacity
Capture proceeding…………complete
Format converted from I&Q
Filter off
Window to rectangle
Message from Processor: Modulation unknown
AM spectral now in view, rate revealed.
Phase locked on carrier
Binary conversion in process:
Data frame set
Conversion to ASCII complete
Fruits of my labor now revealed:
A crummy commercial.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Over the Hill

I was told that life was about getting over the Hill. On the other side is where the meaning of life and all truths will be revealed. The Hill was between me and the truth.

To the left of the Hill was a raging river, and to the right was the thickest briar patch known to humanity. There was no other way to the truth but to climb up and over the Hill.

So I scrapped, I stumbled, I tortured myself –all in the name of getting to the other side. Many, many years passed, as I struggled to reach the truth. I questioned my goal with every step. I questioned why I had to climb the Hill for the truth. I questioned what the truth would reveal to me. I questioned when the journey would be over.

The day finally came when I reached the top. My clothes were tattered and fingernails broken from the rocks. Although battered by the climb, my mood was one of exaltation. “I have made it to the top”! I cried. And there I was, alone, at the peak. I paused and gloated in my accomplishment.

I approached the opposite side of the hill for the descent. There was a large group of people at the bottom, they appeared refreshed and renewed. They were being kind and helping one another. And they looked young. ”How can they look so young and refreshed”? I thought.

My frail body carefully navigated down the slope to reach the crowd below. They greeted me and embraced me. I was surrounded by warmth and love. This, this place, was indeed my destination.

I commented on how youthful everyone appeared and asked if I would regain my youth.

“Well, we are not that sure”, Came the response. “You see – together we built a small bridge over the river – it took a couple of years --but here we are.”

Sunday, August 12, 2007

The Sandbox

A little girl and little boy were playing outside in a sandbox.

With their shovels, the children were raising the sand up and then turning their shovels over, letting the sand fall to the ground. They watched all the tiny grains of sand as they fell. They raised the sand up then watched it fall. Raised it up and watched it fall, fall back to the ground.

A big kid suddenly appeared and swiped the children’s shovels. Laughing, the big kid ran away and was gone as quickly as he appeared.

The children paused, looking in the direction of where the big kid had run to. The children then looked at each other. A tear started to form in the little boy’s eye. The little girl looked down at the sand, and then, with her hand, she scooped some of the sand up, raised it into the air, and let it fall to the ground. She did again, scooping the sand up, and letting it fall to the ground.

The little boy joined her now, and together they raised the sand up then watched it fall. Raised it up and watched it fall, fall back to the ground.

Saturday, September 23, 2006


TV screen in my view
Tears well up at the sight of you

All your parts are in the proper place
All my love in your 3 inch space

Your seventy days new I’m told
Your memories now worth more than gold

I can’t believe how far you’ve come
I can’t believe you suck your thumb

Butterflies flying can form a twister
But what effect will be my whisper?

It’s all you can hear besides two sounds
It’s yours and Moms’ hearts, love abounds

Six and one half more months, I await your pace
Three lives entwined in time and grace