Into ethereal realms I glide;
places far removed from reality
yet closer to my heart.
Places of mystique and impossibility,
conjured by the dreamer's art.
Escaping reality,into dreams I slide,
Wishing here forever I could abide.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ambling idly along an ill-kept path,
breathing in scent suffused air,
I top a rise in the terrain.
White flowers frail and fair
hiding the scorched ground in vain,
stretch towards a victim of fiery wrath,
A city in ruins in war's aftermath.


Great walls now lay crumbling,
beautiful houses now are charred.
The marble palace famed for it's splendour,
the song of many a bard,
now lay torn asunder.
Once magnificent,now lay wasting.
Once beautiful,now not existing.


Nature now reclaiming the city,
vines creep on broken towers,
moss adorns the facades.
Before elements it now cowers,
it's strength before time thawed.
Defiant once in it's grandiosity,
now quivering with fragility.


What riches must have been there!
And how elegant the royalty!
The halls filled with songs,
hearts with bravery and fealty.
Of people wise and strong,
of Wonders beyond compare
the ruins tell and despair.


As golden red rays shine upon it
from the slowly sinking sun,
Lo!Behold a wondrous thing!
The city as if by magic spun
restored by illusions mocking.
Like a tapestry gold-knit
depicting tales blood-writ.


For though there stand
the towers and palace once more,
though the beauty seems rewoken,
the city is empty and sore.
The beauty is broken.
By cruel touch of illusions' hand,
blood now stains the walls grand.


The sun finally went down
and the vision faded.
The city no more before me,
ruins again in it's stead.
Wishing no more to see
I turned away with a frown
and walked back down.

Soft plush cuddly warm,
you are tucked under my arm;
Friend exuding calm.

The shepherd boy sits in his home,
his little sister by his side.
Forbidden to play and roam,
A battle is brewing outside.

The city is quiet and still
holding it's breath.
Afraid,yet with a will
prepared to face the coming death.

On the battlements stands the King
armoured in gold.
His kingdom covered in Spring,
His soldiers singing bold:

"We go to war!we go to war!
On fields near and shores far.
For home and honour
Our love our armour.

We fight through fire and snow.
Our fates we do not know.
To return to wife and child
Or on to the stars mild."

The enemy blows the horn
and marches forward.
The King's trumpets reply in scorn
and his army moves onward.

Amidst them rides a knight,
the bravest of them all.
Honoured for unsurpassing might,
inspires them with his call.

Hearing the clamour and the cries,
the little girl trembles with fear.
Her brother with tears in his eyes,
plays on his flute a tune so dear.

The song rises clear and beautiful
speaking of fields green.
It soothes the weak and the sorrowful,
reminding the happy times they have seen.

Despite their might and will,
the enemy proved stronger.
On white flowers does their blood spill.
The foe can wait no longer.

The setting sun finds the King
sprawled on the ground,
His crown now just a golden thing
stained by the blood all around.

The knight lies on the red grass
looking up at the darkening skies.
His eyes glazed like glass,
he leaves his honour and dies.

The enemy sets the city on fire,
the flames feeding on the gore.
The silence rises higher,
for the flute sings no more.

What the hey!what the **!!
Take it a little slow,
a pinch at a time,
else it'll blow.

Eye on the glass!
Not on that lass!!
Careful if you want to
make it to next class!!

Keep it away from your face.
The reagent's in that case.
Ok,now tell me
What happened to all the base?!

A little less,a little less,
That's called H2S,
Don't drop it!
Oh,God bless!!

Out!out!Get out!!
Now there's no doubt.
I'm going to retire
and go catch some trout.

Looking back I see,
strewn across the years,
parts of me
that I've left behind.

Parts of me that've
been torn from me.
Scattered they lie behind.

For every wound,
Every death of a dream,
For every loved one lost,

a part of me stopped
moving with time,
refusing to go on.

Looking back I see
they've ceased to exist,
staying with what ceased to be.

But still I go on
because I have to,
knowing what I've left behind.

Knowing that I've to
leave behind many such,
still I go on.

And when I reach the end,
What will I be?
There will only be left,
A part of me...

As little Ben lay down to sleep,
sinking into his soft bed,
The night air brought with it
a sweet fragrance on it's wings
to lull him into sweet dreams.

His father coming to tuck him in,
Said Ben:"Daddy,why is it
that the sweet Night with
the pretty Moon and little Stars
does not last long?"

Replied his dad:"Because Ben,
then the Day would be sad.
And the Sun would pout.
And the Night only comes to help
the Nature prepare for Tomorrow"

Thinking about it,said Ben:
"But what if Day gets sick?
And the Sun takes a holiday?
What would happen then,
If Tomorrow never comes?"

Ponderously,said his dad:
"If Tomorrow comes,
there would be no end
to the Dark and his secrets,
No stopping Cold's mischiefs.

The Moon will walk away,
and Stars may be shrouded,
No more will there be Light
to show us the way
and drive away the fears.

No more will the Mist flee
but will snare us into her net,
to get us lost in her depths.
No end to the bad dreams,
No more warm rays of comfort.

No more Dew's pearls on leaves,
No more the sweet chirping
of the silly birds in the trees.
No Sun for the flowers to greet,
No Dawn to make them sing.

No more the frenzy of the bees,
No more the races of butterflies.
Nor the games of the rabbits.
No more prancing of the does.
Only the hooting of the owls.

Never again will the rain seem fiery,
Or the rivers golden.
No more rainbows in the sky.
No more the dancing of colours.
No beauty in the Nature to see.

No Joy to look forward to,
No Hope to wake up to,
Relinquishing hold on our dreams,
Desires and wishes unfulfilled,
We will slip into Death's slumber."

Realising Ben had fallen asleep,
his father got up from the bed,
turned off the light
and silently went to his room,
thinking all the way.

Unaware of the grave thoughts
his question aroused in his father,
Little Ben slept on,dreaming:
"If Tomorrow never comes,
There won't be no school no more."