Spending our days in a busy world,
we seldom realize what matters;
Looking to gain one another's praise,
our emotions are often shattered.

Yet within these walls of discouragement,
are remaining fragments of our souls;
And the courage it takes to gather them,
can be such a challenging goal.

There's no use in simply waiting,
for the days of doom to change;
We must lift ourselves to triumph,
where something of value can be gained.

And how do we stop the waiting game,
looking to push ourselves onward to glory ?
One foot in front of the other, they say,
yields dividends for our life's story.

Forging ahead as we pray for release,
from demons lying outside and within;
Will help piece together our broken souls,
while erasing all our troubles and sins.

Nearer to the wall I carry this torch of fire,
from beastly growths of toppled weeds to open meadows;
Its flame creates a lightning rod of strength,
and from the earth our time streams fiercely as it glows.

When will we encounter sweet seasons flying high above ?
(the question speaks more of anger than of sorrow)--
When walls close in and crush the ancient flow,
our fleeting days will search for new tomorrows.

With profound compassion and mercy heaven sends,
a prophet with another torch to lead;
Yet somehow in the darkness I relent,
and wander off to find the open sea.

Then gathering all the rivers to follow me,
wraiths float among the wild and challenging the winds;
How solemn the lonely nights ahead appear,
filling clouds with sights and sounds of angels' wings.

The perfumed scent of lilacs,
spills across the room;
Dew-drop eyes flutter slightly,
with an air of confidence.
A lace-edged handkerchief falls softly,
beside her wicker chair.
She moves like a ballerina,
in midst of a graceful dance.

I've seen her in the garden,
while the sun is burning bright;
I've seen her in the moonlight,
kissing lovers a fond goodnight.
She radiates a special warmth,
which flows with easy charm;
And tenderly she crosses the floor,
to grasp her partner's arm.

So rare we see such loveliness,
that speaks to all around;
And when she's finally whisked away,
one dares not utter a sound.
For this fine and delicate lady,
is a vision and delight;
Like embers from the fireplace,
that sparkle through the night.

As if in a dream she signifies,
the ideals of true romance;
The way we'd want ourselves to be,
if we only had the chance !

Where devils dance within the storm,
of caustic rage and sin;
A horror dwells inside each heart,
and soon the sky turns grim.

The trees of knowledge fall to the ground,
in wind-swept whirls of leaves;
And only love can cure the souls,
of the curious and bereaved.

Beware of lasting gusts that fly,
through hollowed arcs defined;
For in the stone-cold solitude,
these images are realigned.

The caution taken then is blessed,
by the calm after the storm;
And by the fire we'll rest our heads,
to keep us safe and warm.

An arduous journey came to rest,
at the start of eternal wisdom's quest;
Halting and slow it dissolved away,
before my soul could stop and pray.

Then darkness sang its absurd tune,
while traveling far into the gloom;
Before the changing of the guard,
and lightning crashed in broken shards.

Yet mindful of the cautious stance,
a wisp of memory began to dance;
And all the words cascading down,
erased the visions from the ground.

Past remembering I once knew this place,
of shattered hearts from honor debased;
And while the tears fell from my eyes,
the storms of change came racing by.

The delicate curl of my favorite flower,
reminds me of days long ago--
When I held you in my arms, a weeping child,
caressed your burning cheek--
and sang a song of innocence, the cadence slow, sweet,
as my own tears fell softly onto your tufts of hair--
I had to say goodbye to you, my precious one, my treasure,
my heart--
We were set apart--by circumstance, never had the chance,
to be the flame of love, forever yours--
I wonder where you are now,
As I plant more hyacinths along the path where you
had vanished, on that tragic day--
so very long ago.

It hardly seems a day has passed,
when berries ripened on the vine;
The sunshine came in mystic flair,
while we poured out the finest wine.

During our celebration we sang,
of the past and present joys;
Although our feast was jubilant,
today it seemed more like noise.

Neighbors and friends toasted the vines,
which put forth the sweetest grapes;
Then the sky turned dark and stormy,
with a cloudburst in our wake.

Heads pounding from the thunder sent,
to arouse our deep suspicions;
Of phantoms scouring our timely event,
bringing mystery and mass confusion.

My body shook with jolts of lightning,
my face feverish from the heat;
The wine was captured by the wraiths,
which had envied this glorious meeting.

As children we often read fairy tales,
those lovely stories to ease our minds;
But now the days are like the mist,
which still cover the purple vines.