Such impoverish yet lavish taste
Ulterior, does it matter to oneself?
Needless to say, life shall haste
Need say more for a life that sits on a shelf

Yearn a bite for a tarnished side
Soldiering to perfection, time shall be the judge
In a body still standing yet a heart that has died
Death's faceless encounter leaves no else than a smudge

Eggs cooked sweet; baked salty
Unraveled embellishments throughout
Persist a taste with utmost quality

In that dream of mine, it was there! a sense of reality
The world has yet to know of what is cruelty
Darkest of times, Hour to hour of what I saw
People were in shock, in despair, in grief and in awe

Will-o-wisp, it was in my dream! oh, so many and bright
as far as the eye can see, giving off radiant light
Unite! It whispered to me, in a gentle and light breeze
To the victims, tell them this “hope is at your shoulder”

Give them the “hope” oh so shouted the potter
rejoice! For you are here, while pray for the gone
Off, he shouted again, let us take a moment, then move on
Brighter? oh, it seems its already day
“Hope” was what I learned from that dream, that’s what I would say

Up high, in that sky
There are clouds that cry,
Roars that shriek
And emotions that change.

Droplets that mourn,
Light and sound shall rage
Darkness which is accursed
You will see sorrow at first

The clouds and sky will turn dim,
The skylight will grow thin
Finally a tear! drops from one
And the rest from everyone.

Raindrops can be vibrant, subtle or pale
Stories that show us, it’s more than just a tale
Secondly you will see an increasing hue
But only so little and few

Lastly you will see
A beautiful color of sky-blue and purity
Melancholic as it seems
The sky with rainbows is now filled with dreams.

Books are like us humans
Words that express and shows,
Thoughts that mingle w/ emotions that are written
In blue ink with allies and red with foes

A trek to be read or forgotten
Or a moment to be shared and rejoiced
Uniqueness with words and phrases are the key
But only a few pages there is to see,

Part of history that was lost
Until the faithful and waiting day
It will be carefully and mostly cherished,
The story that would change in a way

But how could it be a good book?
The readers would dreadfully look
Of how short and simple
The life of a man who saved us all

You will not know of how he how fall
For you are hesitant to read
A book with so little pages,
Lines that show the freedom without cages

Thoughts of the mind made to actions
Then those actions written in history
A fight for inner-peace or destruction
To live with Faith, Harmony and glory

Components that show of what is humanity
Books like that are of the utmost rarity
It cannot be judged by its cover,
Judge shall, only after reading and knowing

Of how the thee felt while writing
Then only will you begin to understand
Of how one page of words can turn our destiny around,
Inner contentment can then be found

Life is short and the world is small
But with the continuous thread of string
The red string of faith will then cling
To our diminutive but everlasting story