Through callous and repressive stand,
life's bitter flow in grains of sand;
Releases powers that project,
their horrid schemes without regret.

In days of watching the hourglass,
the soul's intent is put to rest;
With memories of conscious will,
which carry missives to the hill.

And on that mountain in the sky,
are sandy peaks from which they fly;
Those denizens of humor dim,
in caricature of fading whim.

We pilot through the wanton ways,
that settle scores in master plays;
But when the evening calls our bluff,
all profits gained are not enough.

Come to where heather-strewn meadows lie,
and valleys deep with lake-water sigh--
Villages filled with bonny lads and lasses,
where church bells ring out to soothe the masses.

Climbing over steep hills of mossy green,
watching a rugged horseman gather his team--
Winding down earthen paths of beauty foreseen,
where crisp rains fall softly--swift and clean.

Stone cottages built for the sturdy life,
flower-boxes under windows settling strife--
Of careworn faces in the kitchens and fields,
who bring crops of fruit which generously yield.

It's just a small sample of what I know,
about Scotland, its castles, and legends of old--
One day I'll be sailing across the sea,
where ancestors' spirits run wild and free !

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.