the rapture of a souls song plays out inside the mind
as she sits quietly reading in a late fall moonlight
trading the falling leaves for the keys to the kingdom of pain
she scours the printed page for flaws to crow about in the dawn
but she fails to see the falling tears and the raging snowstorm
she feels but refuses to see
all our childhood dreams lined up as toy soldiers
on a battlefield of right and wrong
of love and despair
with one absent minded finger dancing in her hair
she fumbles for the meanings in the steady rain
she feels out the sentences written in summer skies
the novella there in between the covers are the story she reads
but its the long silence in the room between two people
that shapes her fate
writes her tears
the rapture of souls song plays out
with a beautiful melody
and such heartfelt lyrics
but no beautiful song lasts forever
anywhere but in the heart
and her song still plays for me

a salty treason made of tears
betraying her subtly for the tender heart she has
as she counted souls on the road to perdition
she asked that they all spare an ounce of paint
so she could wrest a better image for herself in
the fashion magazines
lovely she lay wrapped in the golden glow of sunlight
expressing all of her hopeful dreams
that others would have left littering the road to redemption
lovely she inked herself into the trending news
and spread a carpet of rose petals for her to lay on
waiting for rescue
we are all lovely on the road to perdition
we all dream big dreams of where we always hoped to be
we all paint our loves on our sleeves
in brilliant colors
never expecting the tears
never wanting a salty treason

i brandished the inquisitive dream
and it flourished in the fading sunlight
like the fading glory of a dying empire
it spoke words of its own making
herald proclaiming loyalty to the house of windsor
it withdrew images from its ancient life
and spread them before me like a tapestry
full of the past splendor and beauty of king and country
of stalwart men of iron will striving against darkness
in a clash of steel and the roar of cannon
and the salty tears of the men who went to sea
conquer the seven seas that rise and fall to the words of a queen
its an englishmen's dream
dignified despair
tea and biscuits at a quarter past four
the queen's photograph hanging dusty but regal in the parlor
mad dogs and englishmen stand at the ready
at the gates of the empire
to keep safe the lords and ladies
to keep right the awesome might
of fine english blades
spilled blood on every continent
for king and country
just an englishmen's dream

sunshine and the bicycle move as one
threading a narrow path among the leaves
fast as wind light as feather
the asphalt flows underneath me
pushing me forward and further
past yet another sequence of streets
past yet another world for me to glimpse
leaving me as young as the man i used to be
filled with the promise of what i will never have
sketch the tale in my heart as the miles melt behind
fair haired and overflowing with joys unabated
that is what i could see from my seated adventure
faster and faster on my shiny machine
leaving behind the people and places of the past
looking forever for that bright future
in the palm of my hand

crows feeding loudly in maiden hay field
in the noon sun
such a dark sound these creatures
such a ancient place they call to in the heart
'no good has ever come from this'
he recites to his unhearing heart
as he moves into the field
seeking the towering oak tree in the far corner
along the broken teeth of the field-stone wall
seeking the solace of the cool shade
and this feast of crows he must scatter
he must reap now that the devil has sown
must gather unto god
what man cast down in this dark place
this noon day sun of perils
this godless place with its ****** of crows
he shouts a prayer as he treads near the tree
to scatter these spawn of darkness
they take to wing
there in the shadows he finds the mans corpse
the plague had claimed him
madness of its fever had lead him here
so here he will be buried
by the village priest
taking up the shovel he digs a rough narrow hole
and covers the corpse
carrying the shovel and the plague back to his village
so it came to this quiet european town
so the black death spreads
so the plague destroyed europe