Here and now-
lies ahead a road.
This uncertainty is
not sure-
cling and clangs
vultures and cultures;
yet, all I see
a bright light from above.
Autumn leaves around
clings of ruts fall
from the trees.
The cold heart of evil
spreading from the past-
the past of winds
cold chills
fire was burning out.
False love-
making no come back;
banishing back to oblivion.
I hear the angels-
strings being struck
from opposing directions;
and the strung
of these sounds
much more sour.
The dispel of a dream-
gone in the wind;
Oh! I see a dark cloud-
I see this won with no
failing winds-
disclose of a brighter hope.
The same child of the storm-
returns in the sunlight.
My wondering mind
wandering eyes
ask me the conscious question:
Is he from the retrospect
within the past storm.
Does this storm repeat itself?
All he remembers
is in retrospect-
This storm is history-
Can the sun return from retrospect?