A lightning bug burns
a hole in the sky
leaving a trail of ozone
for all those passing through

i cannot write of you
for you are in the past
i am in the present
i have not hindsight
nor foresight
in my past you shall remain
worry not
for out futures are bound
to the same
ultimate
fate

it is cold outside
i stay in to keep warm
the warmth eludes me still

i can see the sun shining
but it is the sun of winter
hazy, gray, distant
a dead sun with cold rays

i wrap myself in layers
an attempt to fight the cold
all see my warmth on the outside

yet i am not warm
my layers have held the cold in
i fight to peel them off
they are heavy and my arms weak
the cold digs deeper

last night i tried to make a cake
but everything went wrong
the baking soda would not take
and the salt was way too strong

i did my best to eat a piece
though it really made me gag
my stomach screamed cease
so i found a wretched hag

she only took one bite
and all she got was leaven
there was a flash of light
and she followed it to heaven

the army got wind of this event
and they made me an offer
if i baked til the enemy was spent
i would surely be an officer

i learned that perfection
is not always best
especially when you make a confection
that won't pass the test

the wind whips
a tree outside my window

and i sit
looking through glass
drinking hot tea
in a comfortable chair
illuminated by electric lights

for to be human
is to deny nature

I knew a hardy tree in a pleasant town
it stood crooked but firm through all its hardships
we conversed often when I was able
it shared ancient beauty and I brought only silence
this tree would bloom to summers delight
in winter it fought a good fight
to befriend a tree is an easy thing
just breath its life and live its breath

She has diamonds in her eyes,
that sparkle as the sun sets.
In the violet evenings,
they feed on her regrets.

She wipes away the diamonds,
with gentle, soothing hands.
Saving them as currency,
to use in uncharted lands.

With hearts in our hands
we pound the sky

the world burns below
and us atop our
mountains of greed
can know nothing
of the crumbling towers

the peasants rejoice
while their homes blaze

Will the ashes of broken dreams speak,
great and horrifying kindness to me,
ask shall those in favor forfeit all rights
with being not of mind, would they?

They would mind of not being,
with rights all forfeit, favor in
those shall ask me to kindness,
horrifying and great, speak
broken dreams, of ashes the will