It is only after the ultimate sacrifice by the hero,
That the rewards are to be reaped,
And that just astounds me.

Because it is in these stories that the sacrifices are made just after the hero finally has a chance to become redeemed or to have finally experienced life.

Rage can come on many forms,
I classify rage as an angry form of grief,
Why grief you ask?
Because rage is a sort of emotion that has sharp hooks that dig into your heart,
It changes your behavior,
And it isn't good for you,
And 90% of the time the only way to end it is to let the fire just burn itself out.

But changing gears now,
What would you do if you were to realize you were the bad guy in the play that is your life?

When do the justifications end and justice actually gets served?

It was after the show,
That the Agent approached,
His eyes glinting and flittering with a wondrous glow.

He showed them that he had but a simple and loose contract,
A Retainership that would benefit both parties,
Of which they would agree to.

It was then that the Agent presented them with a significantly larger contract.

It was then that they realized what they were being handed,
Their way to a better life,
A key to a very difficult puzzle,
A planet taken from their shoulders.

They had been discovered.

The anthem ripped out from the Frontman, the Drummer, and the Bassist,
Making a sound larger than should be possible,
Their anthem ripped out through the old amps,
The music revitalizing the old speakers.

The Drummer hammered out powerfully yet precise.
His feet rattling off like machine gun fire,
His bandana tied around his brow.

The Bassist laying down a metronome-like effect to it all,
Notes swaying and dipping to the tune,
Flaring out occasionally to add more gravitas,
Showing he was still his own musician.

The Frontman declaring to the crowd of transgressions committed,
Of battles won and lost,
But also the views from the other side,
That the enemy may be man still.
A story of agony and anger,
Sorrow and Savagery,
With jubilance for the act of violence.
The Frontman's solo soaring high before axe kicking down upon the audience's heads.

The Agent was stunned,
His dropped drink forgotten,
As he reached for the payphone on the wall
The experience in front of him spurring him faster.

The Band continued,
Their sound crescendoing,
Coming to an almighty peak,
Only to begin it's decent to the earth,
Crashing down magnificently,
Down upon a dive bar in the run down part of town.

The Agent stood on the corner,
Smelling faintly of bourbon and stale cigarettes,
Loss and despair.

He was a rising star when he had started,
A keen eye for talent and shrewd in business.
But those times had long past,
For all he had now was the bittersweet yearn of nostalgia and just enough in royalties for a dumpy apartment.

A light rain started,
It's cold droplets stinging lightly on the Agent's reddened nose,
Irking him,
Beyond not just having a drink.

The Agent spots his shelter,
A bar just down the street.

As he walks in,
He shakes loose the rain that hadn't clung yet,
And shuffles over to the bar with hands shoved deep in pockets,
He goes and orders a drink.

It is then that he looks over to see a band getting ready in the corner,
It is then that the Frontman belted out the count in.

And the agent dropped his drink.

Stevie Nicks is telling me about her emotions after an argument with an old lover,
Her hearts still probably beating fast,
She's pouring them out like a faucet,
It's lone electric guitar underlining the loneliness of the song
But it is also one about hope

The lakes waves softly lap on the beaches pebbly bank.
The crickets out in force.
All is quiet on the lake front,
A vacation well deserved

Puffy white glaciers crawl lazily across the sky,
The buzzing of flies and the smell of freshly cut grass,
The puffs of dandelion seeds floating across the field,
The cool breeze refreshing to heated faces,
Sky a pleasant Infantry Blue.

The spider was patient,
It had all the time in the world,
For it had been around since time immemorial,
So it lied there in the woods,
Waiting for its opportunity.

The child was curious,
As all children are at that age,
As to why the sky was blue,
Why the grass was green,
And why wasn't he allowed to go into the woods alone.

The inevitable inevitability happened.

So the child went out alone one day,
To see what was all the fuss,
And it was then that the spider took the child into it's awaiting arms,
To be yet another tribute to the forest.