Ark


I hear faint whispers,
Far from this devouring sea.

I am lost,
Waiting for pestilence to pass.

That all things must pass
Is small comfort to the despair of this place.

I press one hand against the other,
Not knowing what to ask,
Knowing only that some things must stop
Before other things begin.

I hear faint whispers.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

It Is The Dream That Creates Us


It is the dream that creates us,
However carnal or profane,
However blessed by human charity,
However vengeful or inane.
It is the dream that creates us
And awakens us each day,
And opens a path before us
And sends us on our way.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

It Grows


The silent majesty of a tree
Is at every moment a miracle
Unveiled before the world.
Without proclamation,
Without advertisement,
Without faith or despair,
It grows.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved