When all the tombstones one day succumb and crumble away to dust
There will be Hope still left over, I trust
For all the dead souls who deserve not to be forgot
In a fair and just world there must

For all those darling celebrities who were lovely and hot
And worked tirelessly to be worshiped for something they were not
They toiled and twisted to be seen as the best of the best
Was all their admirable effort for naught?

And all those soldiers robbed of being old, who were laid to rest
To suffer together in a place of pain at someone else’s behest
Who chose to go to a place that we call inhumane
And then died with their wishes and dreams unexpressed

And for all those persons we see everyday
Who should not disappear, and deserve to have their stories be told
But truly to those that have pulled us from sorrow and shown us the way
And made our ordinary lives shine a hue of brilliant gold

I hope that one day dust will be forgotten as something to fear
And that high Heaven can come softly rest on the mortal sphere

When I was a frightened child, I met an anthill inside my yard
That could have never given part of my life trouble
I still found it somehow simple to dismantle
After all, from above the only thing that I could clearly see
Was a mound of dirt by something that had nothing to do with me
I cared little for the parts inside
For all of the work behind the scenes
All the toil those little creators had to do
To make something that could be destroyed by a self-centered fool

When my tired frame relaxed outside in a sedentary mood
Caught in the heat of a lazy Summer Saturday afternoon
I thought I might want to go inside soon
But then upon my limb I spied a thief
A mosquito planning to plunder blood with suicidal belief
What hasty nerve, I thought, for a thing so small
To have so quickly chosen its own downfall
But then I, gazing down upon the greedy creature, felt a kindred spirit
It must be weighed down by all the things it could not do,
and so I could do nothing but refuse to **** it
I stared as his belly filled with something that was mine
and watched him buzz away with the summer breeze intertwined
The next time it tried on someone else,
I hoped that poor sod would be easily dispatched
And finally fulfill that itch it and I had to scratch

Once, while I wandered in a ***** city,
Where the suffering of people goes unseen
I thought that there could be nothing pretty
But then, when looking up I saw a painting above me
Blue as innocent as a baby blue-bird
But as deep and soft as a still and gentle sea

Unmoving as the great large tapestries of kings draped in gold,
Surveying from above all the passersby
Who look from below then leave with a story still untold
And escape from sight with seldom even a heartfelt goodbye.
However, to be fair to the artist the beauty may lie in the fact
That most of the mysteries are still intact

As I stood watching the sky it turned into night,
The endless deep meaning hidden behind that familiar painting of day.
But I was too tired from a long work-day
to glean anything substantial from the display
The ambitious and unfortunate man’s plight
To finally see the measure of the world past the sky
Just when our lives have worn out our eyes

But eventually the sun rose to break
The heavy cover of darkness that I felt lasted too long
Our piece of art came again for the city when it stirred awake
And despite the suffering our world ended up bright once more
So now, oft when I am watching too many things turn out wrong
I simply look right above me,
an ever-present reminder that tomorrow morning,
there will be something beautiful that I have need to see