"Focus."

"If no one listened, would you still speak?"

"In seeking perfection, strive not simply to quell imperfections - perfection is a state where imperfections wholly contribute to progress."

Drip, drip, drip.
It wouldn't cease to leak,
The pail was nearly full but yet,
My thoughts mere turned to bleak.

Why did I choose to fill this pail?
This pail when filled with water, fails?
My thoughts cannot but question why?
How have I this time failed?

Perhaps I should plug up the cracks,
Fill in the gaps with melted wax,
Perhaps someway, maybe somehow,
The leaking will be laxed.

Drip, drip, drip.
Yet the sealant seemed too weak,
The wax if nothing only caused,
The leaking sounds to peak.

Perhaps I should find out the cause?
Defeat the devil at its source?
Or maybe deafly thread the path,
Without this dull discourse.

For it was obvious from the crack,
There'll be no use in turning back,
Refill this pail, it'd leak again,
The skies were turning black.

Drip, drip, drip.
I beg the pail to tip.
Empty its contents on the floor,
An empty pail can't drip.

Perhaps when all the water's spilled,
The pail'd be dry, my heart'd be still,
For if it gets the drip to cease,
Silence will be my fill.

Bravely now I tip the pail,
Released my hold, no hope for bail,
The water gladly gushed upon,
The tattered cobble trail.

Drip, drip, drip.
The mental echoes speak.
The pail in silence, victory mine;
An empty pail can't leak.

"Remember the chunner days."

"The wait makes the waited for, worthwhile."

"An empty pail doesn't leak."

"Grasp not the loose rocks."

"Love is brave enough to look."

"Don't look back for that which walks beside you now."

"Without fear, there would be neither cowards to mock, nor heroes to celebrate."

The golden sunset gleamed across,
the shimmering scattered waves,
The clouds as sun dipped cotton floss,
spread out like heaven's eaves.

But my sight could not this beauty hold,
My gaze was downward cast,
Reading in sand, the story told,
by footprints from the past.

The seagulls lofted overhead,
a cool breeze gently blew.
Yet even that which heaven'd made,
could not distract me true.

For the dirt I tread beneath my feet,
each particle of sand,
Drew curious study as I bid,
the grains flow through my hand.

Perhaps in this short pointless story,
there's one lesson we should keep:
The parts never attest in glory,
what the whole doth boast in meek.

For now I finally understand,
why beauty stayed out of reach,
I lived life pondering grains of sand,
and never saw the beach.

"I lived pondering grains of sand, and never saw the beach."

"The well need take care, but the sick need to be taken care of."

"The piano is a wordless poet's pen."

"The stars are there, even when you don't see them."

"What I know should never make what I do not know seem any less important."

"It only makes sense that Life doesn't."

"The musician rarely gets to listen."

"My weakest moments bring out my greatest strengths."