Revolutionary ideas of a world without pain,
all the contemplation has been but in vain.
A storm is coming, a war of the soul,
The fierce blizzard will engulf the sun whole.

The aftermath will bring chaos and rage.
The clouded sky will set the next stage.
Endurance will persist as the tide rolls in.
Out of the darkness a new era will begin.

Pain will not vanish for it is part of who we are.
Strength will ensue, we'll be proud of our scars.

How can a man of science
also be a holder of faith?
How can this arbitrator of fact
deal with such possible fiction?
What would Darwin say
if he saw this man on bended knee?
Would Hawking judge him
if he could quote scripture from memory?

Would God think him a sinner
if this man taught the theory of evolution?
Would God strike him down
if this man believed in string theory?
How could this man stand before the alter
when his work might contradict the good word?

"Science without Religion is Lame, Religion without Science is Blind"
Once said a simple patent officer from Germany.

I can deal with aches,
bear the unbearable pain.
I can accept the worst
and somehow stay completely sane.

I can fight the hardest battle,
take a bayonet or two to the heart.
I can say that it doesn’t matter
when life is tearing me apart.

I can pretend that I’m not jealous
of those who live without a care.
I can hope that things will get better
though I dream with refined despair.

I can live and say that I’m alive,
though I’m not sure if that is fact.
But I can't give up and never know
if my existence has left an impact.

Bone by bone he falls apart.
Nothing to hold him together,
no nerves, no muscles, no heart.

He lies on the floor in a scattered pile,
dust slowly collecting bit by bit,
and still he wears that haunting smile.

He is not losing, nor can he win.
He is not happy, he cannot feel,
yet still he dons that mocking grin.

Most cry out for his poor lost soul,
knowing that he breathes no more
and never again will he be whole.

Alone I envy that pile of bones.
Never again will he suffer of hurt,
he has found his resting place among the stones.

Maybe my green eyes are being severe,
but my logic seems sound and concise,
and my feelings have never been clearer.

I do not desire to share his state,
I wish to breathe in the cool night air,
this is a stance I cannot overstate.

Though still his teeth and empty eyes
have gotten deep down under my skin
because his prying glare shall tell no lies.

Springtime has come once more,
though this year winters grip won’t seem to let go.
Happy flowers begin to bloom again,
though frost threatens to dull their petals.

New life begins to grow as expected,
though death looms close to my heart.
You are the robin that we once watched
in the silent morning on your front porch.

You’ve got fake blood
all over your hands.

Crowns of kings
line your shelves

each from an ever
more distant land.

Monarchs disemboweled
by your spiny swords.

A pen made out
of the finest gold

will mark you a
legend among the lords.

You remind me of someone I used to know.
Such familiar eyes, but yours are emptier.
You remind me of someone from my past.
Such a familiar smile, but yours is faker.

You remind me of a time gone by.
Such familiar memories, but yours seem bleaker.
You remind me of a different path.
Such a familiar story, but yours grew darker.

You remind me of someone I wanted to be.
Such familiar dreams, but yours just shatter.
You remind me of a hope once known.
Such familiar feelings, but yours became duller.
Mirror, Mirror, I know this girl, but I can’t recall her name.