A signature
    woven in regrets.

Collecting sorrowful
                   reflections.

Two rings unadorned,

Memories now hollow,

Gold brought,

Retrospection sold on for pennies...

Beyond the bleeding horizon lies a yellow star,
much like the glow above one's head when three eyes open.  
Within that star is an open space
where dew-dropped webs twinkle
like fractals of crystal quartz.
Streams of thought glide down silken strands of consciousness.

The yellow star sings to me;
"Seek further than you're told,
patience radiates like gold.
Your eyes have known
this sacred home
for many moons,
that laughing lune.
The wind may tell
'you know us well'
And we know you, little blue"

Perhaps a song for familiar souls, that have journeyed through a multitude of existences.
With my eyelids kissed by that yellow star's lullaby,
I hazily gaze beyond the sleepy hills, willow trees, and melting clouds
to see the eyes of my own soul smile crisp
like a poison apple in my hand,
cradled cautiously in the crevices of my palm.
The star contently fell behind the mountains,
humming to the melody of the rolling breeze,
fading into the twilight
only to become an echo in my mind.

I gave my soul to the sun that day
only to roam the black of night as an empty void
and see my true self once more
at the break of day.

They say the pen is mighter than the sword.
In truth, it is equally as dangerous.
Words can be steel against others
Words can cut deeper than a physical wound
(Especially now that the roots of race and prejudice
and ignorance is laid bear for all to see, along with
it's flames)
Words are arrows
Loosed into the air and once its been fired,
you cannot take it back.
There are some who abuse words as well
Just like swords, words can start a battle
A battle of wits
When the person must have a stone heart against
what is said.
When you hold the pen, you hold a golden flower.
Though there is beauty in it, you should also be afraid
of the gold tube and black ink.
In a society like ours, where the superficial rules over
the original, one word, what you saw, what you write
Has the destiny of creating a legacy
OR
Add further fuel to the fires of hatred

I will paint these scars,
Silver and Gold.
For these are the wars,
With stories untold.