If I am the minute hand,
you will be the hour and
every time I see you,
it feels like the first time.

It seems, no matter how far I go,
I will always run into you again.
Around n' around...
Time n' time again...

It seems we're stuck on treadmills,
never going anywhere
but constantly dreaming
of a far away finish line.

We'll trip and stumble,
just as all humans do,
but you'll never see us acknowledge it.
Our rule: talk about but never to.

Deep in my bones,
there is an ache that shakes me,
but no matter what I swear
I will see you next hour.

It is similar to a curse
that binds us with unchecked will.
No explanation-
just our actions that feel right.

So many questions as to Why
but how am I to explain
something that sits in my bones
and tells me Do

I'll say goodbye,
but what good will that do?
If I am the minute hand,
I will see you next hour.

Lost
in the dark forest of flux
not knowing where to turn
unable to see what's in front of me

Hansel can see me
but chooses to toss bread crumbs
in the comfort of shadows
instead of saving me.

Unknowingly
he's led us to the Witch's Cottage
and we won't emerge the same

Forged in her crucible
we had no choice but to change
into the blindman and the trickster

Now we're burnt and tattered
singing the eerie hymn that becomes our story:

Silly circles 'round the mulberry bush
the blindman chased the trickster
the trickster pulled a nasty prank
Bang! goes the blindman.









Don't look me in the eye.
You may have led us there,
but I followed knowing where
we would end up.

My name is Gretel
and my Hansel has lost himself
in a dark forest of flux.

I'm the silhouette that flies with the sun,
with wings outstretched, hear my mighty cry
and fear my shadow as it falls upon you.

Shoot me if you must, if you can not help it,
your arrows will not find me
as I circle you slowly.

Be frightened of my beak, drenched in night's blood,
watch as it rips golden columns in two,
but you will never see it bathe in the moon's tears.

You'll never see me, never know my name,
let imagination be your greatest enemy
for I am nothing but a small black bird.

Yes, I am the silhouette that flies with the sun,
so slowly we rise, but
so quickly we dive into darkness.

I am a creature whose battle yawp is "m'aidez"
A thing so small, no bull's eye could do it justice,
whose beak is soaked in its own tears.

A bird so small and so frightened
it is easily swallowed by the shadows
that lick her feathers like the fires of Hell.

You'll never see the silhouette fly at night,
for she is lost within her own darkness,
fearing the shadows that hide under black feathers.

Just as she's about to fall,
listening to her brittle bones break,
the sun picks her up, mends her, and begins the cycle again.




I'm the silhouette that flies with the sun,
with wings outstretched, hear my mighty cry
and fear my shadow as it falls upon you.