Find solace in the sorrow,
relief in the sadness you feel,
safety in the broken pieces,
scatter the shards of your tomorrow.

Go where perfection can't find you,
take pride in the futility of your dreams,
try anyway and fight till you die.

Wolf bearing fangs,
fight for what you want,
cornered by fate and reality,
sharpen your plan.

Love the world,
cracks and all,
your humanity will be your salvation,
man, woman and child.

To live is to lose,
it's sad,
but sadly the truth,
look and see,
the world is kind,
not to you,
not to me.

Though many seek to destroy,
tear asunder the ties that bind,
to take from me my serenity,
I will not bow.

Though many may seek to defame,
to separate mother from child,
to expose brutal and violent philosophy,
I will not bow.

Though the tides converge,
crashing waves with overwhelming force,
I cannot hope to overcome,
I will not bow.

Though the forces of fate conspire,
alone am I against the world,
my views are singular and often discouraged,
I will not bow.

Though man will try to change my mind,
to make me see through their eyes,
to see things as they are,
not what they are to me,
I will not bow.

Though contention rages in my world,
though doubt clouds my mind,
caught in the tempters snare,
a creation wrought of man,
I will not bow.

Though tempests will swarm,
maniacal laughter sold as new,
and time will change all things,
I will not bow.

Though the things I love will one day die.
though my generation will fade into obscurity,
a loss of collective value and shared experience,
my progeny will carry the flame,
they will not bow.

Though my body will succumb to the world,
my soul will not,
*I will not bow.

The world is a bleak,
devoid of pity,
desolate peaks,
and broken cities.

The landscape is torn,
refineries come to collect,
but hidden from the storm,
hides secret places that need remain hid.

The skyline is littered with ravaged beauty,
towering structures of glass and steel,
and betwixt titans lay many an oasis,
a bulwark of barbs,
a poignant seal.

Titan towers are trivial in comparison,
colossal peaks and monolithic expanses,
war torn deserts,
Eastern jungles echoing with the cries of forgotten children.

It is not nature that will destroy man,
man will destroy man,
and nature will reclaim its own,
this Earth we mistakenly call our home,
this life is but temporary.

Evermore has man searched for God,
the one who lives forever,
reaching upward towards the sun,
Icarus smitten with metallic rod.

Evermore has man dreamed of eternal life,
mixing potions,
magnum opus,
man or monster under knife.

Evermore has man sought immunity,
medical perfection,
telomeres with regeneration,
society given a longer unity.

Evermore has man longed for the paranormal,
vampires and immortal beasts,
fireside stories fit for fear,
portals to the imagination.

*The bird of Hermes,
is my name,
eating my wings,
to make me tame.

Flickering flame,
languishing light,
beating upon wooden frame,
a forgotten story,
lost from sight.

One day they were here,
the next they were gone,
they were extinguished out of fear,
no longer can they sing,
they've forgotten the song.

In a way they were innocent,
in a way they were wrong,
their ideals were incandescent,
their trials afterward,
long.

And still,
when they are found in other places,
they are held against their will,
but then again,
is this not true in all cases?

You confuse me perpetually,
your personality is extreme,
your views the same,
but I may discover you eventually.

You are dramatic,
your prose over-wrought,
but still I see through,
the meaning you've hidden from view.

You are cheerful,
you give compliments undue,
but I see something else deep inside you,
I am suspicious of this happiness that you exude.

Your smile seems forced,
your personality a facade,
forged from childhood condition,
not exactly an original rendition.

Your words seem hollow,
rather than hallowed,
I'm wrong I know,
our differences are borrowed.

Your advice is often right,
seeing not what the others see,
a intuition beyond sight,
but it seems contrived to me.

You are human,
and so am I,
your intentions are pure,
mine are lost on the sky.

But still I have love for you,
unsure of the tinkering of your heart,
you,
as beautiful as your art.

Although your wife is a catch,
you're no slouch yourself,
an excellent match,
your children are themselves top-shelf.

You don't work for the money,
you work only for your family,
you have yet to receive your fair due,
I can't help but have respect for you.

To your wife you are a rock,
an anchor against the tide,
carrying the world on your shoulders,
an atlas that will never shrug.

To your children you are a guide,
a lamppost on the way of life,
a warm hand until the fear subsides,
I'm quite sure they'll turn out fine.

To me you are a hero,
thank you for the experiences,
that you share with me,
the best uncle that you can be.

You are my godfather,
you do it all,
you are a saint,
a hero to me.