The Sum of Small Moments by Brent M. Jones

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We are the sum of small moments—
a phrase that steadies, yet unsettles.
The larger things fade,
their meaning rearranged by time.

Friends arrive for a reason,
and when they go,
you feel the hollow shape they leave behind.
Even those you thought were forever
become distant echoes.

Family remains,
rooted but puzzled
they tell you not to dwell
on what’s already changed.

Yet the small moments stay
clear, unshifting, true.
They are not about who we are,
but about what is real.

This poem also appears in my What Matters Substack, alongside an essay on friendship, loss, and the quiet meaning found in ordinary days.

Is Life the Road to Recovery? by Brent M. Jones

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Is Life the Road to Recovery? is a meditation on the relationship between struggle, growth, and wisdom. Life rarely offers smooth paths—our stumbles often become the very ground on which resilience is built.

This poem invites readers to pause and consider whether recovery is simply what follows hardship, or whether it is itself the deeper journey of living.

Is Life the Road to Recovery?

Life doesn’t always teach gently. This poem and reflection explore what it means to stumble, recover, and grow wiser.

Does life require us to fall?
Is life the road to recovery
Or is recovery the road called life?

So when will we learn life’s lessons?
Does wisdom only come when we stumble?

Is life just a process, or a test?
If we knew what was needed,
Would we still need to fall?

Does recovery give us vision
Or just time to reflect?

If we already knew what was missing,
Would balance feel earned, or borrowed?

Does wisdom begin at the ending,
Or does it quietly mark the start?

Every fall changes us, sometimes in ways we don’t see until long after we’ve stood back up. If we can find meaning in the stumble, perhaps we’re already on the road to wisdom.

As Seasons Fade: On Helping Others and Finding Meaning

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🌿 Poem

As Seasons Fade

The seasons of people once circled my days,
each reason, each moment, a light on the way.
But time shifts its rhythm, the visits grow few,
the circle grows smaller, the sky turns a new hue.

Confusion drifts in like a fog on the hill,
questions grow quiet, yet the heart lingers still.
The answer I find is not waiting to come,
but living as one who can give, not just some.

For when I extend what is steady, what’s true,
I place part of myself in another life too.
It’s helping, not waiting, that clears out the gray,
a hand to another keeps the night far away.

✍️ Reflection

A poem of a similar name once gave me a framework: people arrive for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. That idea shaped how I looked back on my own story.

But as I look forward, I realize the seasons change differently now. Fewer people enter, and that’s natural. What matters is not whether they come, but whether I still reach out. When we help others, we become part of their story. We leave something of ourselves in their lives.

Maybe the lesson is this: meaning doesn’t just arrive; it’s made in the moments when we step forward, give of ourselves, and refuse to let life simply happen to us.

Help Me, Lord

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Some words arrive as quiet reflections. Others take the shape of a prayer. This one came as I thought about how memory can weigh on us — how the past sometimes returns in shadows that press against the heart. And yet, even in that heaviness, there’s the possibility of rest, mercy, and light.

The Poem: Help Me Lord

When memory haunts the night,
and shadows press against my heart,
lift this weight of silent sorrow
let the darkness break apart.

In Your arms, I find my rest;
in Your mercy, I find my way.
Speak Your peace into my spirit,
carry me from night to day.

When doubts arise within my soul,
and fear would steal my peace away,
let Your truth remind me gently:
Your love is stronger than dismay.

Closing Reflection:

Whether or not we name it as prayer, moments like this remind us of something larger than ourselves: the search for comfort, the desire to move from heaviness into hope, and the courage to step forward into a new day.

What Needs to Be Said .A poem by Brent M. Jones →

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Sometimes clarity comes in quiet forms.

I wrote this not as a declaration, but as a reminder to myself and to anyone else wondering if their personal truth deserves to be spoken.

They do. Even if it’s not shared. Even if it’s still forming. That’s what this poem is about.

Thoughts Are Like Leaves by Brent M. Jones

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I wrote this poem to explore how letting go of overthinking can lead to clarity.
Too often, we try to control every thought, every answer, when in truth, peace usually comes when we stop trying so hard.

Thoughts Are Like Leaves is a reflection on quieting the mind and allowing space for something deeper to emerge.

Thoughts are like leaves
Drifting, catching the light, falling when they’re ready.

We try so hard to control what we think, say, or do.
But what if we let go just a little?

When we stop grasping for meaning, we often find it.
When we stop forcing clarity, it arrives.

Let the last thought go.
Let the leaf fall.
And see what the wind carries back

The Quiet Beauty of Music

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by Brent M. Jones

The notes connect
And the mind receives.
Each sound brings comfort,
Floating softly from the piano keys.

As each note enters,
It expands
Filling the spaces between thoughts,
Bringing peace to the fabric of the mind.

The music continues,
Shaping what we feel,
Note by note,
Building on one another.

Until thought dissolves
Replaced by calm,
And the quiet beauty of music
Becomes the only voice we hear.

Kindness Reflected, by Brent M. Jones →

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Kindness Reflected by Brent M. Jones

Pure love is kindness, softly reflected
A virtue not spoken, but deeply detected.

Motive may twist, and reason may bend,
But the heart, not the mind, will triumph in the end.

For true goodness flows from where feeling starts
Not logic alone, but compassionate hearts.

Kindness needs no grand design
Its quiet power is love, defined

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Thoughts about this poem

Love and purity often go hand in hand, and this connection inspired me to delve into kindness. While kindness can sometimes be used as a front, genuine kindness must be pure, just like love. When love and kindness are combined, they create a force for good, guided by the heart. Although the heart is intangible, it's the defining factor behind everything, and pure kindness can change the world. Love is often mentioned as being pure, which influenced me to consider kindness as a subject for this poem.

Kindness is often a mask for the real motive, but to be accurate, it needs, like love, to be pure.

Love and kindness combined are goodness and are influenced by the heart. Unlike love and kindness, the heart is nothing but a reference to it that defines everything.

Did Destiny Bring Choices or Do Choices Become Destiny - by Brent M. Jones →

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Did Destiny Bring Choices, or Do Choices Become Destiny?

by Brent M. Jones

Are people in our lives
Sent for a reason?
Do they arrive
To cause change
To serve a noble purpose,
Open closed doors,
And show us
New ways,
Not the same?

Do they teach us
New lessons,
Help us see
New solutions?

This isn't fate
Its purpose is unfolding.

Providence may begin with destiny,
But choices are always required.
For it is often
When destiny brings change,
That choice reveals who we become.

Poem: Consider the Journey by Brent M. Jones →

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Consider the Journey
by Brent M. Jones

The goodness of people found along the way.
Some came for a reason, some blocked the way.
The sun appeared, then came the rain.
Peace was felt, but so was pain.

I look ahead; clarity leaves me.
Which path should I follow?
Where is the true light showing the way?
Will mistakes still happen if I always do right?

The journey is amazing.
Still, I need an anchor for the night
Embracing the randomness,
Hoping for light.

This poem was written while reflecting on the unpredictable nature of growth, connection, and the winding paths we walk. Some people guide us. Some challenge us. And often, we’re left navigating between peace and uncertainty, light and shadow. Consider the Journey is about finding meaning in the midst of all that, not by having answers, but by staying open to the questions.

Anamorphic Power of Tears (a Poem by Brent M. Jones →

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Tears fall like rain

Wisdom follows pain

Water flows, tears stain

Tears gone, without crying

Tears digested, considered wisdom

Some still regarded with disdain

A Crown of Rust: Reflections on Time, Decay, and Beauty →

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A Crown of Rust

By Brent M. Jones

Once a symbol of pride and grace,
A noble giant held its place.
Now it slouches in the silent grass,
Time and weather let it pass.

Rusted roof to ironed base,
Its glory is lost without a trace.
No craft can bring its shine again
The sky, the storm, the steady rain.

Faded hues in morning light,
A crown of rust still clings on tight.
Some call it ruin, some call it art
Where time gave way, the rust took heart.

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Thoughts about the Poem

Thoughts About the Poem

Art is, at its core, a process of searching—of seeking meaning, beauty, or understanding through creation. What stirs in the artist’s mind when they pause before a rusted-out automobile or any object marked by time and decay?

Rust, after all, isn’t just corrosion. Its deep red-brown hue belongs to the red family—a color often associated with passion, energy, and emotional charge. It brings a space to life, not despite its decay, but because of it.

When we create, we navigate a mental landscape filled with possibility. We search for a form, a feeling, a fragment of truth. The medium matters. And rust—so rich in texture, tone, and metaphor—isn’t just the end result of time. It can also be the artist’s destination, a sign that the search for meaning has arrived somewhere honest, raw, and real.

#rRust #Rustinforms #RustArt #RustReflectsLife

The Dance of Thoughts, a Poem by Brent M. Jones →

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The Dance of Thoughts

And when the day is done,

And the darkness has begun,

My thoughts become my guide,

Leading me to peace inside.

So let them dance and play,

These thoughts come my way.

For they are a part of me,

And in them, I am free.

The heart still rules,

A Brothers Poem for a Brother →

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These poems were used to communicate to me some thoughts as we discussed life and poetry, and were sent to me by my brother. At first, I was not sure of the source of this first one.

“Naked, they walk,

Without any shame

Drawn toward their masters,

Like moths to a flame

With his companions,

Perhaps because he hears

A different drummer.

Let him step to the music he hears,

However, measured or far away.”

by Jeff A. Jones

I asked my brother Jeff how he was doing. He just wrote back, included this poem above, and then sent the poem below as the likely source of his thoughts.

(This communication happened in the 1990s, and then in 2005, my brother passed away)

(this communication happened in the 1990s and then in 2005 my brother passed away)

Song of Light - A Poem →

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Land, sea, and sky, reach out

Embraced by the old, touched by the light

Our new world gives light

The old world gone from sight

Memories sometimes fade

Are new friends new light

Life is short, families give us light

Truth is eternal

Desire to do right

Music's Flight ,by Brent M Jones →

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Music's Flight

I love the sound, color, and the light I love the silence, which feels like night
I love the tone, when a touch is slight, I love the feel of music, in flight I love the sound, color, and the light