First Poem

In a dark room, low light and grim

I sit alone, alone with him

We talk awhile, covering walks of life

And we talk about the life I lead with strife

He tries to humble me, saying "life is incomplete,

It is what happens after that makes a life's story concrete"

It is this sentence, that I bear thought

As to what in life I really sought

I think of all things I have done

All my battles whether lost or won

I think of my father, so early did he leave

So early in fact it's hard to believe

All things aside, he wanted an answer

His patience was as an inevitable cancer

He waited in silence, hand cupping his chin

Staring at me, judging my sin

After contemplation, I sit up in my chair

And I begin

"The road I walked, the path I lead

Brought me to what you said

I have thought on your words, and have this to say

I live, I die, I am here

Where I sit and listen to hear

My story is concrete, life proven well

As I lack heaven, I embraced hell

My story is complete, through the life I wrought

For I am remembered, and not forgot."