Time! Time! Time !
The great eraser of me

Watch ! . . .  as I pace  
this cage of days
that is leeching me

I was the fool . . .
nothing was ever going to
placate me

Just look around !
The walls are bare
There are boxes of pictures
that will never get their chance to stare

Huh !
Time . . . the great eraser
of me


https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=l2cXXdCIClI&si=gmIFFxqNLcJUS1Bk

The same sweeping rhythm
A cold winter fades
Quick as the summer settles
And the spring walks in like a dear friend

A bird on a solitary tree sings
Every morning in springtime
The flower flutter in a sprightly dance
In utter delight

While the rain drains the skies
The rhythm lives on
And I, in hopes of spring
But I too am like the rain

Take my love in bundles of flowers
I carry it on my shoulder
It is springtime
The blossoms have fallen asleep

How can we learn to be together without losing ourselves?
How can we avoid burning up in the heat of assurances
And fading away in the cold of a rainy autumn?
How can we keep our feelings from freezing like glassy ice,
Finding ourselves eagerly waiting for the spring thaw?

We build ourselves piece by piece,
Gathering dried leaves.
No longer you, no longer me,
No longer even us —
Only these branches that want so much
To come alive in late spring,

Longing for the soft kisses of warm wind,
Without violent storms that leave behind
Torn promises of a peaceful future
And thunderous, harsh words that burn into ash
Shaping a bleeding groove from within.

There will be no sweet stability,
Only these pieces of lightly blue,
When, after a long, lonely night
We open our arms shyly, thinking yes —
Even if only for a minute,
Endlessly repeated.

Wield your words like running streams,
To conjure truth from fractured dreams.
Let language bend, let silence speak,
With power tender, fierce, and sleek.

Trace the edges of what's unsaid,
Where longing lingers, soft or red.
Let vowels tremble, consonants bite,
Unmasking shame in morning light.

Speak in spirals, chant in flame,
Name the ache that has no name.
Your verses ripple, raw and wide,
A tide of pride we will not hide.

So wield your words, your sacred art,
To mend the cracks in every heart.
Let rhythm rise, let meaning swell,
And cast your spell where silence fell.

And my kingdom has fallen too,  
though I tried so hard to save its glory.  
All the gods and goddesses I served  
are upset with me. I'm so sorry.  

I could easily rise above the ground,  
if I only wanted to—I was so strong.  
But I've lost again what I once found,  
They were right, and I was wrong.  

Look at us; we are running away  
from the country that used to be our home.  
I never thought I could betray  
my own land, my own people, my soul.  

It's too late to sit and whine;  
it's too late to seek any forgiveness.  
Too late to turn back the hands of time.  
I'm the killer, the victim, and the witness.  

I could run, join them, and disappear,  
leaving cities of ruins behind.  
But I'll stay here; that's all I can do.  
I'll stay here and admit my crime.