I watch the raindrops dance again,
out here in gentle quietness.
They wash away my salty tears
and offer me forgiveness.
I dance with them barefoot among
the falling leaves of Autumn's kiss,
each raindrop leaving trails upon
my skin, so tracing rays of bliss.
They patter on the gasping ground,
their healing sings a soothing rush.
As evening falls, their lullaby
brings soft a tender hush.

A child is our ancient world's greatest gift.
So ignorant to ignorance they drift
through life, not seeing why we war or how
we hate the heartbeat of our life, but now
we try to stifle 'childish fantasy',
not seeing peace on Earth as they can see.

A child can make an instant, lifelong friend,
a common name or age will make them spend
their years together, joined at hip and heart,
each whispered secret promising the start
of stronger bonds and brighter days,
each hand in hand, traversing life's black maze.

A child may fight you over something small,
they kick and scream and bite and swipe, but all
their conflicts can be solved with one embrace,
forgiveness instant, smiles now back in place.
No secret sourness stored within their soul,
all faults forgotten; friendships, morals whole.

A child will speak with honesty profound;
the truths they speak to you are not yet bound
by pressures of society to lie
to save themselves - the words they speak will fly
through clouds of foggy falsehoods, set you free,
and open up your eyes to let you see
     just what you are, and what you've done,
and what monstrosity you could become
if you insist on murdering their world,
for it is worth its fragile weight in gold.
Ironically, materialism tries
to **** their tender, unpolluted lives:

"It's time that you grew up. You're not a child.
Don't let these frightful fancies grow so wild.
You've got to get a job and earn
your own money, quite soon you'll learn
the adult world is not so nice; no second chance,
so wake up from this stupid, silly trance.
     No time to idly sit and daydream dear.
It's time we got this situation clear:
a life of student loans and debts await.
Your choices now affect your life-long fate.
Bad grades, you say? Well, that's so awfully sad.
But don't expect our help. You'll only add
     to costs it takes to get you lot in work.
Although, those grades will only make this worse.
Who wants to hire a failure? No one does.
So get it right first time, my pet, because
you'll be ignored and shunned and judged, although
we'll masquerade, and claim we care or know."

But what if I don't want to choose this way?
I've got a voice, but you won't hear me say
that I don't want to live my life like this.
The future you have carved for me, your bliss,
is hell for me. Why can't you realise?
This world looks better through a child's eyes.

The finest mist of rain falls down
upon a grassy hilltop crest.
Far in the East, the sun is born
and gently wakes the world at rest.

A silhouetted oak stands tall,
its twisted branches hug the sky;
Beneath its bough I rest my feet
and listen to the Spring breeze sigh.

And at my side there sits a stone,
a single slab of charcoal slate
which marks the spot where once we sat
and through the sky watched comets skate.

"As Summer turns to Fall, my dear,"
you'd say, "all good things have to end."
But here I'll sit and dream with you,
my tender, dear departed friend.

O, howled the wolf up to the starless sky,
His pain as crisp as freshly fallen snow.
The sparkle left his burning amber eye,
for she had left him pining down below.

The wind caressed him coldly, planted cool
kisses of ice upon his frosty face,
but he was nothing but a lover's fool,
and waited once again for her embrace.

For jealous Winter stole her from his gaze,
and held her closely in his clutch of cloud.
Though chill had tried to quench his heart ablaze,
his song rang out among the mountains loud:

"My love is blind, and yet my love is true,
as here I save my last heart beat for you!"

Many Jack does come-a here
in bat-light hours stumble far.
How you wander here then, Jack?
Not follow misty guiding star?

Jack all alone in darkling woods.
Why Jack elf so alone?
No Jill elf keep-a company?
Be Jack elf never Jill elf known?

Why Jack be looking sad, Jack elf?
Jack know not way to go?
What be you in your hand, Jack elf?
Why dew from eyelets flow?

Jack come with me, me know what way.
Me play-a Jack a song!
Me keep-a Jack in heart and mind!
With me Jack elf belong!

The night is swiftly drawing near.  
Within my heart a stroke of fear.
What world awaits me when I sleep?
What gorgeous terrors my mind keeps
From me until I close my eyes
And leave the waking world behind!

In dreams a false reality:
What gives me strength to let me fly
Past crescent moons, through airy lakes,
And watch the heav’nly light rays break
Through clouds of cotton soaring high
Above the fields of warm July?

This realm I pray to never leave;
Its absence I so sorely grieve
When, more and more, I seem to find
The inner fabric of my mind
Distorting into something base:
My dreams now seem to wear your face.

For no amount of light can ease
The pain from dreams that will not cease.
In sleep, or wakening, I know
Your Devil’s face will always show,
For like a sunset in the East,
You’re like a never-dying Beast.

Lo! On the wing of heavy gales,
Through the boundless arch of the sky he sails,
Unspeaking, rapid, immensely strong,
His silent shadow is borne along
By his steeds of fog and cloud and hail,
The earth does shake and the skies do wail.

The skies darken fast, and the golden blaze
Of the sun is quenched in a lurid haze,
Then black, a black of a starless night
When clouds descend and block all light.
I stand, I wait, I hold no fear,
My body poised and my mind is clear.

He is come! He is come! Do ye not behold
His ample robes on the wind unrolled?
How his huge and writhing arms are bent,
To clasp the zone of the firmament,
And fold at length, in their dark embrace,
From mountain to mountain the visible space.

And he sends through the shade a funeral ray—
A glare that is neither night nor day,
A beam that touches, with hues of death,
The clouds above and the earth beneath.
And with the glare comes a heart-wrenching cry,
Solemn, grave and joy deprived.

And with the cry falls fast the tears,
Lashing, bitter, punishing, drear.
His tears the lashing rain that breaks
In torrents away from the airy lakes,
Heavily poured on the shuddering ground,
And shedding a nameless horror round.

Darker—still darker! The whirlwinds bear
The dust of the plains to the middle air:
And hark to the crashing, long and loud,
His agony, high up in the thunder cloud!
A whirling ocean that fills the wall
Of the crystal heaven, and buries all!

I stand, braced ‘gainst his icy breath
And speak, my voice strong – I’ve no fear of death.
“Lord of the winds! I feel thee nigh,
I know thy breath in the burning sky!
Calm thy storm, I know thy pain!
I too lost my lover – my heart was enchained!”

“Thy agony is clear, but why dost thou cry?
For can ye not see that before you ‘tis I?
I’ve roamed o’er hill, mountain, valley and glen –
I have searched for too long to lose thee again!
My love! Reach down to the earth and clasp me securely
And united together forever we’ll be!”

Arrows tipped with feathers red
Will fill The Devil’s heart with dread.
Feathers at The Devil’s feet
Will mean a devil’s death he’ll meet.

Ten nights he has to change his ways
From hellish acts to brighter days,
Or running he must surely start
Before the feathers pierce his heart.

For once he sees that deadly symbol,
Slow and sure, or quick and nimble,
Steady hand and steady bow
Will freeze him in the blushing snow.