Gadarowski Michael

The gates to earth are closing,
To many every day
Unwanted, unloved millions
We’re turning them away.
...

...

Beads, water, wet
Running down mountains of flesh,
Into a warm sea,
Whose white porcelain banks
...

The earth it plays a symphony.
I see it every day.
I taste the very notes of life,
As I go on my way.
...

To Hope

Was it a week, or just a day
When joy so sweetly
...

A donkey standing
In a field by a fence,
Standing all alone
Without any friends
...

Still the thought, to walk in fear.
Tis love must carry thee o’er.
But can I rightly chart my course
When perched upon this bier.
...