They never gave a ****.
A silhouetted master plan,
A shadow of a man,
Summons a feeble grasping hand.

A grip that's none too tight,
Sand slips through fickle fingers' sight.
Hour glasses and tricks of the light.
The hand of time, immovable might.

Despite of

Inspite of?

Rivers and oceans in our minds
Defy, turn the tide, divide.
Ox bow truths and eroded lies.
Mountain streams serenade the blind.
And those unwilling to see.
Blinkered to the plight of man.
Banned from the light of eternity.

0rrest  Head  a  majestic  hill.
Covered  with  a  regiment  of  trees.
Whispering  in  the  summer  breeze.
A  golden  retreat.

View  from  the  top,  breathtaking.
Lake  Windermere  lying  calm  and  serene.
Mountains  beyond  standing  tall.
Basking  in  sun  and  shade.
Quite  a  wonderful  place.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

There is peace at the end
but no joy
the abyss is only
silence

and a taut string
connecting us
to eternity.

Naive is the poet
who thinks what he's written
will capture her heart
with his melodic song

Yes, he was once good
but it all dissipated
when someone much better
just happened along

Now he cries in the shadows,
his pen falling empty,
conceding defeat
to another so new

While all of his dreams
have been left in a poem,
wishes in verses
that will not come true

Colour Blind

I don't see the colour of your skin.

I see
the colour of your heart.

Is it dark and putrid or
is it the color of a soft and lilting tune?
Is it filled with warm tones,
or cold?
Hues of ice and snow,
or gold?

Do you give or take?
Do you love or hate?

I don't see race or faith,
I just see you-
your energy, your words, your actions.

I see you; I just simply
see you.

.
Crystal sparkles—
From within, with ores,
Mineral, quartz, precious
Commonalities from earths
Core.  Wind has attempted
To make shy marks— falling
Sorrowfully short and water
Has edged and smoothed
By centuries too of trying.
This then was their show,
A kind of immortal love,
Everlasting by its trials,
As even the sun knows,
For a ley line, etched so fey,
Runs each wild orbs circumference,
Separates moss from clean stone,
Tracing the path of a star.

I climbed the rainbow
rode the sky
the ancestors held me close
- hold me still.

The Vulture wheeled
flew straight out of the Sun.

My tribal drum beat
and magic dance
lasted for days
- and as many nights.

The Vulture drank
the magic cactus.

And we danced together
and entered the spirit world.