Clear skies are often coldest,
Tempests' temper seems subdued.
Sunlight skims the tiles of rooftops,
Stops.
Savours,
Admires the view.

The sky was never blue.
Obsidian haze and gunmetal days
Light the life we choose.
Blackened,
Slightly bruised.
Broken yet not dismayed.
Too long we have been walking,
Proud in our shroud of the grey.

My brother, my teacher,
My foe and my friend.
Our ghosts shall speak
Once more at the end.

We wage wars with words,
Whetstone sharpened wit.
Wounds win rounds of applause.
A pause,
While metaphors are mustered,
Rusted dictionaries dusted,
Cobwebs shed from unread shelves.
Pikes of pronunciation
Pick apart
Portraits of ourselves.
While poetry parries,
Prose pivots,
Prepares and rallies,
Stares down violet valley below.
The violence of lavender
Shines like silver in the snow.
A scent sentenced to silence,
Flowers on death row.

The sea is swept in mystery
She confides in me no more.
No whispers in the shells
Or echoes from the shore.
You do not argue with the wind,
You can not bargain with the sky.
Standing back to back with mountains
We watch and weep while angels die.
For the face of life is fleeting,
Tweeting, tapping at your door,
Ravens that won't relent,
Yet ones you can't ignore.

But I'm boring you I'm sure.
I was talking about the ocean
And how we speak no more.
It's not that we don't get on
We still have much to say.
Words are made of water
Written in the waves.
Now the tide is out,
The sea seems
Far away.

Our body was well worn,
Born, bled then ill informed.
Skin shed
Torn
Dust to adorn a once pristene floor.
Bred to provide countless lives, more.
Martyr to a form it shall never see.
The water flows but cannot know
The extent of its captivity.

Carry no fear in your heart
Nor on your shoulders, shame
For the end is nothing more
Than the start by another name.

It is strange how we yearn
For what we have never known.
Nostalgic for a time long past
Before our seeds were sown.
Homesick for a feeling lost,
For a land so green and sure.
For a shore we have never seen,
For waters that have never graced
Nor lapped our weary feet.
For a space we thought was ours
For the darkness that hangs in waiting
Between the gaps among the stars.
For the peace we have never found
For the war we have always sought
For the feelings we seldom caught,
For the love of all unbound.

Carry no fear in your heart
Nor on your shoulders, shame
For the end is nothing more
Than the start by another name.