Daddy looks through watered eyes
On his son in the family cradle
He will cry even more
When his son can reach the door
But such is the passage of time

Grandmother's eyes
Warm and soft like lullabies
As they sing from a heart, ever dancing
Seasoned by tears now in her autumn years
Enjoying the passage of time

As a child in my room
Beneath blankets of gloom
All tucked in with a heart full of anger
A questioning tongue
Has no place for the young
I must wait for the passage of time

Time, it seems waits for no one
Easy go, easy come
And picks up the ones left behind
Still time finds her heroes
They smell every rose
Right up to the end of the line

A song holds a phrase
Like my life holds each day
Never one less beloved than the other
And with each hopeful line
Though I'm sure to lose the rhyme
It is found in the passage
In enjoying the passage
It is all in the passage
Of time.

The mothers all cry
For the last baby down.
The protestors try
but there is no one around.
They all yell from the streets
but they can't make a sound.
All you hear are the feet-pounding
hungry war hounds.

I doubt that there's been
a more dangerous foe.
When it's fear we're afraid of
our fear feeds it more.
When you're freedom's at risk
then that freedom must go.
It's a paradoxical, sick, un-winable war.

SO
SALUTE
Hey YOU!
Do you have a problem with that?
I can't HEAR YOU SOLDIER,
fall in or fall flat.
We support what your forefathers said you stood for,
But their words hold no weight anymore.

Now all is so quiet
on the western frontier.
The purveyors of "RIGHT"
a whole two hundred years.
We're the STRONGEST
the PROUDEST
WORLD'S BIGGEST cliche.
But never mind, even Rome
didn't fall in one day.
And still the mothers all cry for the last baby down.

Wearing down
Less steady now
From mortal wounds of old.
Not the way in younger days,
when my guard would never falter.

Furrowed brow
now worried how my heart will fair it alone,
without the gates nor keeper waiting
to fend off who gets over.

Sword and shield may not reveal
this man of flesh and bone.
I can tell those tears that fell
by the rust-stains down his armor.

At ease, at ease.

I'm ready.
I'm open.
I am willing to be broken.
I can feel her hands unfolding
each petal around my heart,
I can feel
the changing of the guard.

Silent and invisible forces
pitch me as though a rudderless boat;
waves, relentless...insistent.
But to what end?
My resistance feeds its strength,
my arms and legs in discord.
I thrash, convinced
of a truth not yet visible
that love is at the rescue
while the loss of it
lurks always in the depths.