belle2007–2002 |
dada2002–1999 |
sundance1999–1997 |
frere1997–1995 |
julian1995–1994 |
stone1994–1993 |
8 January 1995
He holds my hand
for which i am grateful
He is my Father
and He leads me through the darkness
when my steps wander through desolation
always is He there
when trials plague my weary step
always is He there
when all the world spits on my feet
always He is there
but sometimes it is hard to remember
and i want to lie down and cry
in lonely bitterness
and then i hear His soft sweet voice
the beautiful voice of my Father
telling me to stand up
and take his hand
and with loving tenderness
i feel His Hands under my arms
gently easing me up
that i may endure again
Copyright © 1995 Charles Fry
Here's one for ya. go find yourself. late again skys passing wave raining clouds and offer healing sun où es-tu dim Mornings in the underground memories squirming on the bath room ceiling open the faces on the side walk pass me by life and living Song of Peace from Time the Mountain My Father so i painted a red cross on my chest my living eulogy my plastic house alone again frustrating the Song of my heart as it grows and changes In Dark Brick Dungeons clanteba mortillia Lonely is my call to this Omnipotent generation: friend (and, by now, even brother) my PCC Our Garden Cognoscente The Home careFree the Children full moon if I were a Painter For You Caterpillar March Prison As I Went Walking Norwegian Cockatrice Lampposts Departure or The Falling Apple Peace