I can hear it asking questions.
I can hear it staking claim to the fertile grounds of my mind
But I've been cheated for far too long.
A wrong has to be made right,
My mind yearns for the light that has been concealed by the branches of this dark idea.

He was calm, cool and relaxed
In his Papa's old forbidden barn
His eyes hid a lonely happiness
It was a quiet summer afternoon

At first he thought it was a man
But in the heat, he couldn't decide
And his young heart felt haunted
So from a distance he watched

Then, the clouds gathered
And a mighty storm brewed
Darkness slithered into the barn
Rife with the venom of uncertainty

And like the darkness , she crept in
Her eyes haunted by a strange fear
Danced about the old lonely barn
But not one glance fell on the boy

He watched her and her thoughts
Settle down in the hay and into sleep
The barn was now dark and quiet
With the exception of silent sobs

Then suddenly they stopped,
In his minds eye they dispersed
Like the dark stormy clouds, then
He slowly crept up to her

But before he could do the ritual
Strange fingers griped his hand
They had the terrifying grip of death
And death was a man!

The perfect reflection of change
Revealing the illusory dichotomy
Of a present on the move
Fading into the past,
Approaching the future
Like a moving hyperbola
Casting a mysterious shadow
On things we can never know

What has become of us love?
What has become of us?
The good night kisses
The playful teases
Have all faded away
Nothing but memories
Reflections of a lost bond

There's no color
In our beautiful painting
There's no odor
In our ring-sealed garden

The birds still sing,
But the air is rife
With the sound of gun shots,
Bombs, and grenades

Our battles are endless
And tear at the core
Of our hearts


Have we become monsters?
Feeding on hatred, revenge and desperation
Or vampires,
******* love's blood
At the cuts of our bleeding hearts
What has become of us love?
What has become of us?

It's 3 in the morning
And he's by the candle light
The place is silent
Except for pencil sounds
And heart pounds
His eyes cold and strained,  
Fingers creaking with pain
His back strong, his spirit unbroken
His head still, his mind open
Pouring out ideas, bright
By the candle light

He wields the  Hammer
Yet sees no nails
So blindly he swings
Through space, through time
Untill they rust,
Untill they come lose,
Untill they fall,
His box open
The hammer is fallen