I cried on the steps of change, wondering where am I going. So many breathless moments we lose to change. The silver and gold shadows reflecting the sky. The sway of moonlight between the tree branches. The poetry and the book, the skin and the blood of war.
I leave changed knowing it is before me waiting to change me again. Beauty from ashes, fire from stones. Hope is a weary road between us. Like smoke and ice never meeting in the land of fair play. So my dreams are coming and have pass me wanting to dream again. To hope in the stillness of hope that I too will be admired in my live years.