Whisked away among the clouds,
as if hope had dissipated;
My heartfelt worries clearer now,
with frightful thoughts anticipated.

In streamlined streets of ashen gray,
the restless storms had rambled;
And tearful words dispersed among,
each whisper through the shambles.

Coaxed out of darkness with remorse,
were shadowy souls of silence;
With deep hunger for a siren's voice,
to resume in screaming defiance.

Hell on earth--a treacherous plague,
which can reach any one who breathes;
As the need for cure and comfort,
resides within a world that grieves.

Mourning the summer solstice as it screams by,
steaming like a freight train racing toward the sun;
Frantic, electric, a furious quest gathering speed,
following an unknown path to a lost memory.

Burning waters beneath the green shade of tall,
winsome trees,
Eternal springs of summer's love, despondent now,
with endless apathy.
Beauty--bound and gagged--captured, held tight
as a fist,
setting its table among tangled, twisted weeds,
awaiting the arrival of forgotten seasons--
Discovering true summer in the tender torture of
gentle souls.

Alongside country roads of brown-red clay,
where wildflowers shrivel, fade and die,
Teardrops stream then melt into Mother Earth,
foretelling the approaching frost, darker and deeper,
than a February night,
Before summer could grasp our hands, pulling us
backward, downward, spiraling into the boiling abyss.

And the freight train bears down, piercing the fog,
roaring forward into the misty horizon;
Heavy walls of moisture daring us to breathe,
finally relenting, a nightmare blown away in ashes.

Drops of glistening sweat dissipate
as knife-bladed breezes bring wintry storms,
white and barren, icy and harsh,
With the trains raging journey exposed--
transcending all emptiness, the hollow desire.

Suddenly, an epiphany amidst the dashed hopes
of mortals,
where mystical tales float within the mind's orbit--
Solemnizing the steady, stinging rain---waiting for an
eternity of sparkling stars--cascading, erupting, exploding
into pieces of dust and stone,
Justifying our existence beneath the heavens.

The separation of God and Man only an illusion,
as the train slows down through sacred hills,
Defying the cluttered search for truth,
now existing as the chosen instrument of change and
ultimate sacrifice--
And one shared moment of clarity among the ruins.

The naked world defines my sorrow,
and leaves me hungry for more;
Of cherished moments under the sun,
with salt-sea kisses from a distant shore.

While lapis light shoots from the sky,
my heartbreak trends toward stars;
Which hold my thoughts in shining array,
creating images that carry my scars.

Still wounded and faint I walk alone,
seeking solace from the nightly echoes;
Which color my sadness and regret,
leaving me cold as the winter's snow.

If this is the time when I fade away,
then perhaps it's only a dream;
A phantom notion which plagues my soul,
reaches its heights--finally peaceful and serene.

Behold, the resurgence of brilliant stars uniting,
as the Almighty relays His will unto the earth;
The faithful gather 'round in prayerful singing,
rejoicing freely from their spirits' holy berth.

Reaching out to share the massive glory,
of Heaven's spark released upon the ground;
Our minds are touched by saintly prophets' words,
when inspired by soulful melodies profound.

While our Savior is still walking with the angels,
and telling the tale familiar to them all;
His Father sends Him down to help the people,
to spread messages of love and heed His call.

And now we look to honor His Son's sacrifice,
as the world still spins yet suffers from delusions;
Which easily tempt our daily thoughts and visions,
until we find a sacred way through life's confusion.

Despite the haunting questions in my mind,
my words became a beacon in the dark;
I grabbed onto lines of favor and delight,
to capture all the lightning's eager spark.

I fought to scale the heights beyond the scope,
of imitating others whose words defined;
A limitless landscape depicting deep expression,
awakening thoughts which scattered over time.

Whenever I would write a lengthy stanza,
preposterous at times it may have seemed;
My heart would jolt inside me with a start,
to find I had created a worthwhile theme.

And when I found my voice had much to say,
far beyond the magical whirl of creativity;
Each script aligned in a calm and careful manner,
inspiring hope with cautious objectivity.

There she sits alone with a hefty growl,
lifting up her skirt with a screeching howl;
Coarse strands of hair streaming from her head,
she appears like a scarecrow crawling from the dead.

Always fearing life beyond her own dominion,
her voice was stern when shouting her opinion;
That raspy sound brought children to their knees,
this care-worn woman rarely aimed to please.

For a sad and solemn story caused her ruin,
left abandoned years ago by thoughtless kin;
Having lost her only son--a casualty of War,
retreating from the world was her only cure.

The destiny of those who've been affected,
by reckless chances taken through objections;
Have cost the souls of others waiting back home,
who'll only touch their loved ones--carried to their tombs.

There go the wild and eerie sounds of zephyrs,
translations stirred by birdsong in the air;
Listening closely for the eager signs of Spring,
where love and beauty take away our cares.

Crushing branches fall without their blossoms,
with cursed winds defying what we seek;
And blushing roses lose their winsome petals,
which float along a dark and dismal creek.

Winter's soul abandoned on frosty evergreens,
a crystalline mix of snowflakes drifting down;
Yet now its Muse reflects the complex corridor,
projecting mirrors of sunshine's brightening crown.

Our hearts combine their deep and wise conclusions,
that every single change shows Nature's way;
To cast its mystic aura throughout the Cosmos,
where sweet innocence and wonder rule the day.