The mist is heavy now
Thick and moist
As sodden newspaper

It covers the range
Which, I clamber each day

Cloaking the way
It’s gray keeps me from straying

Following that beaten path
In endless ritual

Past the stone and wood structures
And past the nook that smells rustic

The mist is heavy
And I’ve noticed, how thick

For me to ascend to the crest
Where light warms the peak

I must wave through the gray
The unknown

I must calculate the cliffs
While I follow the gold

Ascend I must
Brave through the mist
Choose that path

It will define, you and me
Reach and hold
The palm of virtue
And I’ll hold yours  

Come with me
Let’s climb through
The mist
Let’s claim our crown

Dancing silently
In timber of white veneer
There she pirouettes

the gold ribbons speak
peaking over the ragged crest
release winters hold

Glimpse of the end
on the way back from daily labor

they are in black
from toe to tip

there to say their last gesture
to the withered

laid gently in a coffer
they gather, in soft afternoon sun

cheeks glistening
with glimmering memories

translucent in nature
but, filled with monochromatic films

to the black this just a moment
a stop in the road ahead

to me, this is merely a glimpse
a window and painted inside
is the destiny set and true

we paint our way
with each stroke and dab

we build what will be remembered
layer upon layer

until we finish
a master piece

there to be seen
for all to witness its majesty

and with one final touch
it turns black

colors mold into one
summing up what you embraced


black smearing even the finest stroke
it is black
becoming nothing

I come to despise you
this word, this label

even though, it was muttered
first from my own lips

its sound sings the memories
that hunt my every step

I still remember...
they follow me like shadows

demons mimicking my silhouette
they infect my mind

with each syllable
rehearsed by your lips

you practiced
and twitched in glee by its sound

this word is common
it is used, everyday

its very meaning
is honor and loyalty

every rising sun
a new man will inherit this word

that day, in a brisk, painted landscape
I was brought into this world

and you inherited this word
like a knight swearing by the sword

you inherited me
your kin

I still remember...
they slip into my mind

like a vivid film
glimpse after glimpse

my reel shows me
what this word really meant

it echos a deep nothing
that is left within

the void never filled
it was there for you

this word can not be
sealed with just blood

it is word based on action
without selfishness

it is earned
and felt

yet it was branded to you
for me to say

and forever this word
will be my first

a word that's empty
to me

it is one desire
I have kept away

it is there behind Revenge
a jealous sister

she is there

her hair black as vanilla
eyes cold and numb

she taunts and pulls
to reveal

the flickering
foresight

of what is capable
what is expected

center stage
she quivers

“Revenge is a thought”
“Revenge is a coward”

“let me act”
“perform”

******!
She pulls

******!
She yanks

pulling at the very
thread of desire

her sound is dark
yet sweet

a howl
screaming for embrace

a performance
rhythmically polished

with saber and dagger
tip toe and pivot

she performs
the act

the act of
revenge

a structure
filled with belt buckles and bonnets
and yellow in tint

it welcomes the day
with bubbled windows
opened to the scent of thawing

with the grip of a steady winter released
the inhabitants embrace the air
and embark on the daily labors

clothes line flutters with white sails
the farmer tends the barren soil
and little feet, pitter patter across the green

this is an awaking
a birth cycle of warmth and light
begins a new