The Sun

I remember a long time ago, this girl I liked called me and said she was coming over, but she never made it. She died in a car accident on the way over. So, for a long time I walked around thinking she died on her way to seeing me.This always bothered me and I learned that there are things you have to go through and figure out, theres no class you can take, or book you read, or no one has the right words to say to help you make it through these tough times.I think, as people, we find it impossible to imagine that at the end of outer space, there is an end, to which there is nothing more. Our powers of imagination are incapable of grasping the sense of nothing at the end of something. So for this reason I think man has always had to believe in heaven and hell, a rebirth and an infinity, all of which must exist in time and infinite in space.So, as you read these poems I know some of them arent very good, but I thought if I wrote 20 poems, one would be good and someone, somewhere would like it, read it, and think about it like a song that sticks in your head after you hear it. So its come down to this, you reading these words long after I wrote them and maybe they can change you, the way you think or the way you feel or whats in your heart... or maybe not.

Michael Minson was born in Los Angeles, California, then moved to Colorado Springs, Colorado briefly, graduated from Mt. Whitney High School and the College of the Sequoias both in Visalia, California. Worked in Kings Canyon National Park, Sequoia National Park, Yosemite National Park, then in Zion National Park in Utah and Yelowstone National Park in Wyoming/Montana. Moved to Seattle, Washington briefly and then back to California, currently residing there, right next to Sequoia National Park.