I see this space, unraveled eyes.  
The tight ropes that sing when plucked.
The wisdom embedded in the halls of failed yesterdays.
The smiles that preach endless laughter
to the unsuspecting mourning soul.
Falling sparks of ever winter moonlight
beckoning all who see

not for greater glory, ambition, or power. 
 Just the wisdom in old tears, the wealth of blood, the anchor of friendship, and the honor of holding the future accountable.