I know peace is hiding somewhere
but that may be a dream I had
the other night

It happens when good things
sit too long in the sun
They begin to melt into the blue sky

There was a doorway
I was sure would be my salvation,
sure of the path behind it

Or was that Alice entering the wonderland
that teased me all these years,
the beauty tainted by evil

I want to find the doorway—
not Alice’s entry to the crazy
Just the gentle place I keep painting

Painting and hoping,
searching and writing
Sometimes, I tire and want to quit

Sometimes, I return to dreams
Sometimes, I breathe in hope
It’s the exhale that stops everything.