The trees have out grown there roots,
        while the sky cries tears of lost memories,

Sorrow and regret for his horrific strokes with an incendiary brush,

 Life pushed forward, but couldn’t compete;
         he won the race, but lost time
              And stands alone on the podium,

 Meditations of thoughts, have no place to go
        No place to play,
               they drift like snowflakes falling on a forgotten path.

  Silence once golden is plunging every moment, into black,

  Cursed with the instinct to survive, He comes a full circle,
         with a understanding of creation.

Firewalker