Gentle breeze of crisp delight on a sunny winters noon,
Thawing in the cool sunlight, leaves play their gentle tune.
These shades have eyes,
Their gaze is cool,
They frame her face in frigid frost.
Their memories fade through greys to blues as
Sunlight sparkles in her eyes and smile,
All the while,
Her pale skin of snow,
Fades memories through to white.

An analytical perspective reducing problems as time slips away
Losing perspective just in time, to live a little more
Perceived beauty in each narrowed gaze
As the wind goads leaves to play

Finite universe of unnerving depth, nearly too broad to gauge
Twisting perception ever further, as the ignorant fall short
Time progresses in lapsing chunks, infinitesimally placed
As a sparse patch of rosemary confounds the green sage

Taught by some to limited ends, as perspective sets to stone
Never perceiving underlying motives of a lone ant
Like a profound understanding, ever fundamentally flawed
Wrought by expansive perspectives of greater minds than mine

Inevitability is but a state of mind, owed to limited thought
Shining lights into the night to reignite the day
Dedicated to a flailing cause, won over misconceptions,
Add a measure of salt to the sea to stop its bubbling froth

Watching waves steal away land at any time of day
As tides fall in and out of favor with the sun
Counted grains of sand drift along the shore
In an attempt to confirm your complex sum

Creative chains of idea bound to anchor stones
Yet still set to float upon the sea of knowledge, unassisted
Actively promoted by ignorant fools confirmationally won
Ever alive to reason away another day tomorrow

Ghastly shadows of the night, might I bend thy will?
For as slumber falls all around, I can't lay quite still.
As heat does stifle and wind not blow,
Clouds fill starless void, so does memory stifle
my mind
in thoughtless verse and rhyme,
as thoughts blow in and verses out, of sight and mind
as slumber falls forevermore down
through ghastly shadows of dawn.

I am death.
A heart beats motionless in my chest,
to sway none but me.
If thought were passion I would carry the world,
but alas, the world would have none.
My heart is death and longing,
for beneath my baser instinct
is a depth of soul that no life aught to plumb