Along the path of righteousness,
rising notions that are limitless;
Promote the lights of love and cheer,
rejecting minds that live in fear.

Inside a world that's mostly gray,
someone will come to show the way;
Into a place which comforts all,
where spirits answer worthy calls.

Among the shadows that reappear,
are those which conquer souls from fear;
And when the road seems quite insane,
a friendly shadow takes the reins.

My shadow falls across the land,
preparing me to take a stand;
To help the lowly victims of,
the evil which destroys all love.

For when the dreams of angels die,
a second shadow fills the sky;
And empty hearts will soon recover,
with vows to cherish one another.

February snowfall displays its beauty,
in frozen alabaster petals from the sky;
Falling delicately they paint an ornate picture,
which reflects its luminosity from on high.

The winter world spins gently as it weaves,
a glowing tapestry of gossamer angels' flight;
The glory of the heavens speaking volumes,
as the sweeping winds call out to their delight.

Suddenly the steely sky brightens overhead,
as the moon appears and shows its pearly face;
To give honor to the goddess known as Amethyst,
with the crystalline shine of royal purple's trace.

Any moment now deep slumber will arrive,
with the dreams of nightfall and its wintry grace;
Where God's angels warm the spirit in abundance,
and soothe all hearts in a memorable embrace.

Phantoms drawn from the waiting hills,
devoid of notions unfulfilled;
In silence breaks their worrisome thought,
which contaminates every sacred plot.

At ease the dance of dawn alights,
caressing strains of fortune's might;
And with the chill of subsequent fears,
sing softly then slowly disappear.

The mountains shed an early snow,
which captivates in the daylight's show;
Then morning and night become the same,
toward the inner caverns of the waiting game.

As if in a trance the hours slip by,
where no one rests and no one cries;
Forever grieved these phantoms try,
to escape their fate borne from the sky.

The halls are echoing old sweet songs,
cascading down like waterfalls;
In dreams and visions that went before,
from the glory days of ancient lore.

Eyes blinking away the melting tears,
while music touches our hopes and fears;
Where memories find a sacred place,
to scatter images no longer erased.

The past sheds light on many reasons,
and carries us all from season to season;
The psyche senses an awkward pause,
within the shell of mankind's walls.

No longer melting in faint disguise,
these moments lapse before our eyes;
As time reflects on what's been gleaned,
from the roller-coaster of life's true meaning.

Was I old enough to understand the reasons,
why God unfurled a myriad of seasons ?
An empty space--a relic--of years gone by,
let loose within my soul a youngster's sigh.

The shallowness that claimed my heart's corruption,
was old and torn like crumbled leaves' destruction;
For through the lens of youth I viewed the wasteland,
and carved the ravaged pathway to the heartland.

Stumbling and tumbling among the crisp evergreens,
searching for answers to questions now foreseen;
In images of light which floundered and faded,
while still holding onto flowers--ripped and jaded.

But then a rainstorm gathered with its power,
in a blast of wild winds with blinding showers;
My road ahead seemed doomed to be obscure,
as I wandered through the trees toward heaven's door.

And there I found the ultimate place of peace,
like a lantern in the darkened night's release;
Where trees of every shape and size grew tall,
and enchantment ruled the day for one and all.

The night was reflected in yesterdays,
of perilous haunting's sphere;
Which wandered into my current days,
through ominous waves of fear.

While shaking off my deep despair,
forsaking my soul's desire;
Looking forward sent me to the clouds,
erasing the present's ire.

The future seemed an awkward spot,
which never truly saw the past;
While silently watching worlds collide,
sending sparks from nature's blast.

So where now do I go from here ?
The darkest days are done;
I'll close my eyes and wander alone,
as my arms reach toward the sun.

But the captive heart freely understands,
its place within time's plight;
And rising from the ashes brings,
hope which leads me from the night.

Love hangs from the tree of happiness,
it often dangles and tangles its leaves;
Between the shadows of waning wonder,
calling out for someone to believe.

It floats from memory to memory,
scattering pictures throughout our minds;
Often it seems shaken and restless,
forging its visions from another time.

Scrambled missives falling from the sky,
reaching beyond the cool grassy hills;
Where the tree of love awaits its call,
disparaged--yet holding still.

But the sun arranges for brighter days,
which alight in joy and glory;
The saddest thing now flies away,
from the pain of an anguished story.

Then love nestles in the heart of town,
where the folks have seen the shine;
And share their gifts of friendship,
as love beckons to all mankind.