the blue face above
is looking hither with rage
and I stand in pause

waiting in the calm
my garden becomes a stage
for the dancing rain

beautiful lights play
in the darkest shades of grey
enshadowing day

fears have died away
and I've come outside to play
in my bravest way

the dirt of the ground
surrenders and holds me down
I stand now, a rod

reaching arms skyward
waiting for the touch of God
to strike my sins gone

her image touched the water
like a butterfly fluttering
on the breadth of a breeze

subtle
gently melting into the rippled glass

and I look to the sky
searching for the source
of this reflection of beauty

charging into combat
with our nearly emptied guns
damaged armor
and honor under the violent sun
holding our hope
the battle can still be won

the souls of bullets ringing in my ears
the smell of smoking powder
filling my lungs
I have unwittingly become
a tried man amongst his peers
notwithstanding
the weary looks and leers

artificial clouds and rain dance overhead
dreams of love become the thinnest spread over fields of pride
I'm still hungry
though full of water and bread
shrapnel memories left in stead
as my blood bleeds a trail of red

the inglorious mutter
"it's foolish to have fought this war"
still
we march on
through the pain and gore
holding thoughts in our heads
and feelings evermore
hearts that never stop beating
though ever sore

The chrysalis that was
locked in a state
hidden from prying eyes
obscured in mystery
unknown to the world at large
yet understood
by the smallest of minds

laying at rest
yet awoken in its dream
standing still amongst petals falling
showing no sign of motion
yet one could tell it unsettled

pondering the notion of revelation
waiting for time to come
and unravel its riddle
to unlock its door
and let it fly on winds high
away from the inner illusion
away from the lie...

Time is of the essence
not even the hands of fate
could manipulate
all are cast in her glow
all are mortal still before her

oh
how I wonder
with all the spite about her
do they even know who holds the key?
for they change when she passes
and lose her all too often
she stands until forgotten
yet in anticipation
while her tears flow like sand

but still her heart ticks on
unabashed of its own existence
its purpose and will are reason enough
to beat for war or melody
to satisfy its owner's deepest desire
to remain to cherish all that is

for she would not touch
nor acknowledge
nor have capacity to love
nor reasoning for the existence
of that which was not for her

and so I say to you
remember
when you loss track of Time
when you take her for granted
when you waste her for naught
that Time too has a beating heart

Golden essence shifts through my fingers, spilling on the ground, shifting over my feet.

A gentle breeze passes through, the sands become its body, emulating its spirit and casting its shadow.

The glittering glow sings to the sun a melody pleasing to the eyes.