The children ran to and fro
and wandered hapless in the forest green
the death and fright of an empty light
meant nothing for the coming scene.
What heavens to this we can compare
if such a needless want, we can not bear
for the wild scurries round like river bends
to find the darkness coming to end.
With drought comes a longing for
the greens and fruit of the wandering soul
but alas, the ease of the simple flesh
leaves unwanted need, and mind to thresh.
If only we could find an infinite spring
and love, to bear for all that we must bring.
I stayed up to watch you grow
but dawn came before night
and swallowed up your light.
The wolf is not afraid
fearless from the sun
whilst from it, it must run.
For darkness comes not just in sight
but from the wilting of mans chest
and toil found in such unrest.
My heart would yearn to love the light
If the gentleness could calm my worrisome heart
but alas, this change would cultivate turmoil fore start.
And weakness have I bred from day to day
despite seeing such tempting light
I must wander once again, into the cold night.
All eaves crave destruction,
Its a simple want
To live in the heavens, for to long
and cherish the sky.
For the soils sweet scent
breeds lust for such a change,
as all colors seem to say
they come, and be another way.
But it sees not the insolence
of rot and rust and decadence
that stealthy creeps from just within
to bring these hollowed walls to earth
and hand the love of death below
the gravity of such, would no one ever know?
Two hands, what more could this feeble mind need
to find and fix and create to destroy
all things that fill this vessel with joy.
Is such brazen wisdom the plight of the seed?
To be of one to spring eternity
and to berate love for insanity.
Or be it just the mark of another life
full of toil masked with confusion
and exist for what passed for delusion.
Oh sleep now, the martyr of the mind
for these empty thoughts leave nothing
lest we hope to lose all that is cunning.
We build to collapse to build new life
and find that time withers away
for nothing true, or real can stay.
Her only flaw was that she was beautiful.
Had the world betrayed her, like the others
she would have set eyes upon these wretched colors
and might would have prevailed as a perfect heart.
Not muted the light of a chest soo full.
Would that the words that float enchantedly
bring warmth to this empty hue
and soften even such a frail pallet
and find anything to hold on to.
Oh gentle, gentle night
The sky, in all its haste
weeps heavenly
for what I do not know,
like the melancholy of a forlorn love.
Or be it to my dismay, a joyous night
where the world in all of its resplendence
cannot bear another second
without the running of the tears
for love.
Oh love, to be not so gentle
and the coming waves
with the summer rains
will again bring such sorrow.
How do the courageous know
what all dead fellows cease to sow
the words of strength beyond the light
to help them traverse the night.
What sleeping giants wake to find
a ghastly course built by the blind
or simply soiled by wicked hands
to bring to fruit such wicked plans.
The common man might cease to live
or for weakness, his soul he gives
The dam breaks simply for the flowers
invading spaces meant for wandering
and to fill with emotion.
I see not for a second, yet I understand
that clarity brings only a reset
of what means to break.
I start and stop for you
and for the lack of you.
The flowers begin to subside,
yet the mind still feels the sting
and the hearts contentment grows weary.
Be it fashion or ignorance
that I align my sights
with the wants of the enemy
or significantly delude myself
in thought that my heart
is the correct accessory
for this cloth upon my arm.
Be it as simple as to feel,
to see feeling as a fragile garment
with the utter fascination
of untimely death.
Caution has the wings to fly
but not the legs to stand,
as to be hurled with confidence
across your heart.
