Springtime arrives with a rekindled fire,
Breathe the air fresh like New Year's Day;
Feel the warmth of the sun's ire,
Awakening once more the flowers of May.
Birdsong echoes through a sky that shines blue,
Joyful voices, but they aren't you -
The grass glows a brilliant green,
And I smile when I see those Irish daisies,
The golden manes that grow to fly;
Descendants of summers I fear are by.

They say time is like a river;
Flowing on forever, with not a glance behind.
No second passes taken, but left are remnants within the mind -
For here I walk in a field of dreams, among rose-colored grasses;
Pink-painted petals cascade from trees like amaranth, fancied and eternal -
Soft and silken, they rain like ashes; and they whisper to me sweetly.
Through the haze of time, I hear the voices of the fallen,
And the laughter of bygone days;
This lea lit by vernal skies, it is a lachrymose place -
Beautifully bittersweet, and with life interwoven.

Soar through the air on wings of white,
Fly over the towns, the cities, the Christmas lights,
Fly through the flurries of crystal flakes,
Fly over the glassy, frozen lakes;
Drift on wings of peaceful thoughts,
Deliver on wings of peaceful thoughts -
Give hope to those below,
You're their symbol of peace,
You're as white as snow.

Glittering gold,
Blazing reds;
Vividly bold,
Bedazzled threads.
Sparkling silver,
Onyx lace,
Feathered crowns,
And a hidden face;
A masquerade of fabrication,
Patrons dance away the night;
They revel in such admiration,
Till shines the light of dawn.

The night wind whistles,
Rustling the leaves upon blackened trees;
A midnight silence interrupted -
A forest on the outskirts of town,
Stirred from sleep, and legend-bound.
A trail leads through the wild black,
Rumbles of thunder distantly sound,
And with each beat, the gale awakens.
The cracking strike of an electric bolt
Lights the trail for a mere blink of an eye -
Behold the shadow with titanic wings,
Soaring low, and on they fly.

The warmth of summer has faded,
And now the leaves begin to turn;
Drifting upon the winds of autumn,
A raven carries a message.

On wings of black,
Clutched in talons -
A bottle sent from the wreckage.
The letter within is wrapped with ribbon,
And sealed with a cork of sapphire;

Flying up and over the ridge,
The bottle is delivered from Fate's grasp -
It falls into the hands of a figure by a fire,
A traveler who observes with the eyes of Melampus.

Oh, the sky is shining bright, bright blue,
Shining, shining, down on you -
My little, little Mary Sue,
Who so bravely rode that gilded horse
High upon the tor, stood there tall
And full of pride;
Who went to war against the tried -
Never, never lost their stride,
Instead called upon their rallied flock,
Those pristine hides and ****** voices
That had yet to wade in the red river;
Giver, giver, but quick on the trigger -
Purge the wicked and hush the words,
Burn the books, and ban the birds,
May the ashes cushion your fall.

Oh, you take the high road,
And I'll take the low;
I'll be in Scotland before you..

I see the walls to your kingdom,
Across the sea, so far away;
The cerulean waters give me no solace,
As I'm reminded only of that fateful day;
Disruptions plague the tranquil surface,
As I recall the reason I couldn't stay;
A ripple for each fallen tear,
I wish you weren't so far away..

*I stood outside those wretched gates,
Defiance coursing through every vein;
I watched them bolt the locks behind me,
Wasn't long till I felt the pain -
Separated from you, but I still couldn't doubt,
For two words they called to me,
And those were, "Get out."

Newborn soul,
You know nothing of this hell -
Awake to a smile,
But beware the smell of sulfur.

Newborn soul,
You know nothing of this world -
Where cries are heard,
And the skies shine blue.

Walk here as two;
All rays of light cast a shadow,
We are two faces on a single coin.
At bay we try to hold the dark,
But what is day without the night?

Black and white, a mere illusion -
There's more to us than good and evil.
In shades of gray the world is painted,
Now look within; your shadows play -
Your shadows vie for dominance,
For control of the throne. 
Your shadows are your essence,
To the bone, they're you.
They coexist, they battle,
And in mischief do they dabble,
But that shadowed silhouette
Is just the other you.

I live every hour in a drowsy slumber,
My head held low, a silenced hunger;
The sky is a miracle that I've forgotten,
For my gaze is tethered to all that's rotten;
I wander lost, my shoulders ache,
A heavy weight I just can't shake -
Then came the day that changed it all,
Cold rain, cold rain, cold raindrops fall -
They strike, they splash, they wash away
All the troubles that dyed me gray;
Falling tears, these chains they break,
And now, at last, I wake.

Seventeen,
Seventeen,
Glean the knowledge from the scene;
A tale written, read before,
Something's wrong, but something more --
Fear the nightmare, fear the dream,
Nothing stops at this machine;

Grasping rule yet leading blind,
Law will bind no bleeding mind
Intent on death, and peddled lines
Stray from course to fell the fruits,
As Red *** seeps through poisoned roots.

Mockingbird, mockingbird,
Tell me all the things you've heard...
They don't like it, so I like it,
I am like the mockingbird.

Ancient walls of darkened stone,
They make up this structure brimming with secrets -
Looming large with a heavy air,
Some even say it seems aware,
And the curious are drawn to its storied grounds.

The sun has slid beneath the horizon,
Setting once more upon the mortal day,
To bring forth the allure of the shadows,
To make way for the sibylline night.

Ivy bursts through the cracks in the walls,
As you wander the halls gone silent with time;
Brushed by whispers of heavenly laughter,
And the murmurs of time-lost voices -
Echoes of an era, imprints left in stone.

Mysterious, maddening, enthralling -
These halls tell of a tormented past,
Witness to the events of a bygone life,
And ever since forsaken.

Walk the path trodden black by this fallen soul,
Enter into his courtyard;
A large open space, quiet as the rest,
And scarred by decay.
An eldritch bell adorns the middle,
A bell with no stand, floating free,
Polished silver with an amethyst glow;
From it dangles a chain,
Swaying to and fro.

Pull the chain, ring the bell,
Be spared the pain of the living hell.
Ring the bell, ring the bell,
There's more to see, more to tell.

From the bell, a resounding toll,
Resonant and clear;
A violet haze surrounds your eyes,
And fills you with fear.

The bell was rung, you pulled the chain;
Ignored the heralds, played my game.
Now join them in their timeless pain.

*The bell chimes the midnight chord!

From behind my pane of crystal glass,
I look out upon these familiar grounds;
Common homes in your standard suburb,
But home to me and those baying hounds -
Now by heart I know these sights, these sounds.

I watch the ghosts of days gone by,
And shiver with future's touch;
The stores I'd frequent, the brick and asphalt I'd walk,
Those I met, the cordial souls with whom I'd talk -
Someday they'll all be past.
The world knows that nothing lasts;
Changes come and changes go,
But still the memories remain;
They're here to stay,
While the rest - it goes away.

Yes,
Someday this will all just be..
..A sad, but sweet, memory.

Dark waters churn, an eerie disturbance —
The air is fraught with a peculiar sense;
A blackened sky looms overhead,
And faintly felt are the hands of the dead.

An empty sea, not a living soul save me —
Yet from my place upon the shore
Echo the sounds of ringing bells;
Haunting are these ghostly chimes,
Accompanied by the creaks of groaning wood;
The sable sea is no friend to vessels —
So is this now where the poor ship dwells?

Forgive yourself and fellows,
When footing has been lost;
One's fall from grace is torment,
The second has a cost;
Of flesh and blood you still remain,
Yet own your every err;
Accept the past you cannot change,
Confess that you were there;
Set right the things that tend to slip
Post-stumble, fall, or break;
Mend the wounds with loving hands,
That none are left to ache;
Lucid men are forged in fire,
Adepts are those who learn --
Without trial, sans blunder,
Success is not of our concern;
Decay takes to dusty wings,
But is down truly ever out?
Arise, for failure comes to those,
Only those, who sit and lie in doubt;
Forthward.

Doors of old mahogany creak as they swing upon their hinges,
Granting entrance into an extravagant library now devoid of life, dusty, and bleak.
Shelves tower and line the walls, brimming with books, new and antique,
Titles familiar, forgotten, and from days of yore,
A lonely, forsaken trove of lore.

But though these tomes now lie abandoned,
Power still hums in the cracks of this place;
From atop the room's stone spiral staircase,
Soft sounds drift down from the floor above.

Ascendance reveals a circular room,
Much like below, but here books fly -
The fallen volumes that spot the ground
Hover, float and flap leather-bound pages;
A broom sweeps of its own accord,
And the faintest tune of music plays..