Ripples through time
Perturbations
                           in the world around you
Originating
                      In word
                      In deed

Circles ever widening
Of influence
And impact

Even when we are gone
From the room
Or from the world
                                  In body
                                  In spirit

Our ripples spread

Merge with others
Shape them
As they go on
To shape others

Even when we are gone
Even when we are forgotten

Remember

Your ripples move on
Merge
Intersect
Transform

But always spreading
Through time

Oh to be swept away in a melody
Caught in the maelstrom of a rhapsody.
The throbbing tide tugs our hearts
Like David charming Saul with his harp.

In intimate dance, soul and song entwine
Two notes forming a chord sublime.
The lyrics, an incantation, of unearthly hold,
Giving us the vigor to face the untold.

And one day our cadence will surely cease.
Our completed symphonies may bring peace.
Will our compositions instill life or death?
Will we exhale life before the last breath?

Hopes and dreams are fairytales
In pictures from your head
The softness in your face’s veil
Is made of stone instead

Sleepy eyelids weigh the scene
Of faulty truths and lies
Crawling through a limousine
Makes up for sorry eyes

There’s sadness in the grinning teeth
And from the tone of mind
A squinted smile and happy cheeks
Are sometimes hard to find

Why do we exist to merely die in the end?
What is the point in simply changing our way's of communication?
Why must we feel pain before we can feel whole?
There are no answers to these and yet,
We all have our answers to each question.
Each answer either being chosen for us by written scripture of the past,
Or by our own past experiences,
But one thing is for certain,
The only answers that we can get to these questions,
Are from our own past's.
The past does influence our future,
Yet our future is what alters our past,
It blinds us into thinking that we were someone we were not,
It binds us to think we have changed,
When in reality,
The truth to all of this,
Is that it doesn't matter.

The smart, modern boys
who’ll shepherd satellites
and parent sly AI -

live blocks away and
spend sunny afternoons with
digital zombies.

I talked with one - once,
I think, he mumbled some
strange techno-English.

He was pale and
skittish but attractive
in a shy, goth way.

“Who are you voting
for?” he stared blankly, “for prom
court??” he stared blankly.

“Madison’s nice, I
say", handing him a ballot,
(He checks her name) “Thanks!”