When the minutes roll by
with all haste and quickened pace
I shall sit idly in my seat as they fly,
my hear resembling the broken Vase,
sitting chipped and broke,
as the music and sound of the night,
befriends my ears and invoke,
the sense of will and might
that I shall rise from my eerie seat
and move and motion change
for this my heart is over being beat,
and so I shall get to building some strange
fort and wall, with sufficient space
to roam and thrive in the hearts fair keep,
and I shall always be prepared incase
the bitterness of the world shall creep
upon me and spring in the night,
I shall truly be at arms, always
willing to show them my might,
and give them that which will amaze
even the stubborn and prideful
that they may feel as well the renewed
strength of my heart.

I had a poem in mind,
take note that it is not this one,
Pray that the lord grant me mercy,
and clarity,
that I might write the words I had intended
free from restriction,
that my heart pours out onto this
the world wide web.

You hear the sound of couples
dressed high and fancy,
mingle as their souls tap the floor outside,
to the sound of strings, brass, and percussion
tempering themselves for the heat of music.
The passionate movements of bows,
batons, and fingers, to form the wonderful
elegance, behind the masterful music composed
by fellows now long gone.

Ah, to the sounds of majors and minors
my heart feels at ease, to the subtle creaking of chairs,
to the rhythmic chimes and strums of instruments within
the skilled orchestral ensemble. All this,
topped by the eccentric and emphatic movements
of the swift conductors hands, and arms,
watch the spring, when the crescendo arrives
his spring is let loose, and jolts,
currents, swift, sleek, fluent motions, baton in one
passionate turning of pages as music flies on by,
at 4/4 pace.

Oh, the fine thunder of the percussion,
and deepest strums of bass at the right,
combined in a movements finale, to make an
awe-inspiring harmony, that one does not
really expect, with two previous movements
just elegant and peaceful,
such a quickened pace and depth of drum
and strum takes us all by surprise.

Then, Silence,
joyful applause,
continuous applause,
then its all over,
and we head home.

I walk in the forest,
the most beautiful forest,
full of the most beautiful trees,
and filled with a mighty breeze.
This forest is filled with the most
wonderful trees, I become lost
in the beauty of the forest,
thats all around me,
Beautiful Women

Such a rare sight,
In the dead of the night,
When all is resting and nesting,
pushing past all the testing,
is the one delicate flower,
not a plant revolved around power,
but more faithful strength,
embracing the renewing love
of its father.
This flower,
the rarest sight,
gave off one thing,
one small thing,
that meant the entirety of the world,
one
single
tear,
for it was made alive,
healed,
restored,
by the fathers caring,
tender love.

On and on and on,
down the rusted tracks,
screech and screams,
as horns howl in the night,
as we steam down our tracks.
Stations await,
people to collect and carry to
the point where they must go.

On the straights you can race ahead,
on the curved and bent, slow and steady,
I hope to come to the station,
where I lose not one of you my friends,
yet, at every station along my rusted track
I lose someone, and gain another,
but it doesn't negate the pain,
I dont want some to leave my train.

So many unchartered channels,
and coursing currents, in the deepest ravines,
or the steepest hills,
masked in shadow, drenched with emotion,
this is the human heart.

The poor explorer,
the one who wants to know every nook and cranny,
must endure the rain, heat, and cold,
the light and dark,
he persists, deep into the human heart.

That poorest fellow,
but by choice he carries on.

In every season,
in all our misfortune,
he persists until every sector,
square and quadrant of the vast human hearts
expanse, is chartered, and know,
leaving nothing to mystery.