A thousands spires that whirl and dervish,
high upon the scorching currents in the air.
Across the empty desiccated wastelands,
so long parched without waters soft repair.

Like gyrating embodied souls rotating,
to lay scar deeply carved upon the land,
driving clouds of rock like pelting hail,
headlong until all is shattered into sand.

Flashes of lightening and thunders call,
clouds cast in iron, observers of the scene,
testament in muted light from up on high,
sole recall of still waters that once had been.

Desolate open and forsaken landscape,
where only wind gives motion to the world.
Leaden clouds of rain without a falling,
static charged clouds constantly re-curled.

How long ago it was that life had left,
its own scars and marks upon the soil.
until through life's' own achievements,
a once beautiful world was left to broil.

In that not so distant time when remnants
of the miracle that was life is erased and gone.
not one thing that we have ever seen or know,
nor memory of who we once were shall live on.

There's a music in my soul,
soft lyrics sound in my head.
Words I know so well,
about thoughts I've never said.

Like spirits on the wind,
grains of sand before the storm.
The harmonies in tune,
where the symphony does form.

Sometimes the theme it is so clear,
constant lilt and steady beat.
Stories of places I would go,
and people I've yet to meet.

Often I hear the cry,
of a soul that's lost its way.
Where thoughts hide in the night,
and my demons have their say.

Some would say its a sad song,
but it has a comfort when it comes.
With the violin song so clear,
and steady beat of muffled drums.

My soul is singing to my mind,
and through the harmonies they play.
To chase darkness from my thoughts,
until they dissolve all life's pains away.

Yes I love it when it sounds,
when that music fills my soul.
I can feel alive again,
spirit for a time completely whole.

Let your soul write your song,
listen and heed  its steady refrain.
Move along with it, where it leads,
as it comes to ease your pain.

What choices would I change if I started from anew?
What lessons from my life to change to see another view?

Would I make the same mistakes or choose another way?
Would I speak out just as loud at the times I had my say?

How would I react to the things I've seen men do?
Could I hope to be braver and help those it was done to?

Would I choose to stand when I saw the need to fight?
Would I still see the same things I do now as being right?

Would I still choose to hurt those I caused pain to?
Knowing that the choice once made is impossible to undo.

I know I cannot go back and do it all over from the start,
but if I did it all again, I would live it with a bigger heart.

Cast my ash upon the rocks and let them settle upon the sea,
for there upon that rocky shore is the place I choose to be.

Peace and tranquil summer days that I spent without a care,
where sound of wave and salted scents be carried by the air.

Weary are my bones with a soul of torments without release,
but on that shore my soul can rest and finally know some peace.

The lap of wave upon the rocks under the clearest blue of sky,
In the warmth of childhood memory my soul could finally lie.

The choke and mew of seagulls as they pass along their way,
solitary songs of disturbance to accompany the passing of a day.

For I am come to such an age to hear the appeal in this call,
to know both rest and peace and with no fear in it at all.

Twenty one thousand, nine hundred and fifteen days,
the sum of all my experience, all memory and dream.
Days of smiles and of laughter, scattered as they came,
interspersed with pain so deep my soul still hears the scream.

Accumulated time filled with things of the important everyday,
Through shifting hands of time all things came then hurried on.
By heart or minds good reasons were the choices that I made,
until now where no good remains and all sense of hope is gone.

My mind will sometimes force a replay of some echo of the past,
when hope and love gave purpose to a young man's dreams.
Twenty one thousand nine hundred and sixteen days,
more recent but so much later,
with a soul deafened to all but screams.

A God all alone in empty total dark,
had thought to start up creations spark.
To build upon that black empty view,
all those things his thoughts made anew.

Where and with what should he begin,
with only darkness there to keep it in?
Mechanics drawn from rigid Physics laws,
so time would carry out evolutions chores.

Only God alone right there at the start,
hydrogen made as if from some godly ****.
Clouds that swirled and time then congealed,
until mass and gravity his plan then revealed.

Ignition of that first ball of gaseous light,
that brought an ending to the longest night.
Deep in that furnace new things were made,
a realm where matter and time both played.

Changing substance and the shape and form,
by the passing of time and by cosmic storm.
All elements to make every building block,
of galaxies, liquids, gases and every kind of rock.

So the plan moves on at his chosen godly pace,
filling all of time and all corners of outer-space.
Ever changing all things into something more,
God all alone knowing what its all been for.

They tell of a land to the North
with misted valley's and of glen
Where red deer wild roam
as they make splash upon the fen.

Strong and hardy is the stock,
many with deep red hair,
Raised from their day of birth,
on naught but deep fried fare.

Custom demands of each a thrift,
and preservation of everything,
this all born out on coinage in pocket,
bearing the head of the last king.

They are true a hardy race,
of this many can contend,
and rumours abound all over,
of them tossing trees end on end.

So too there are tales of a legend,
that gives some despair to the soul.
that they smack a ball all over hillsides
until it falls into a wee hole.

Cultural music is a strong tradition.
and dance often accompanies that,
with much joy and merry festivity
to sound of someone neutering a cat.

An ancient tongue they sometimes speak
that gives cause to a certain lilt.
But ire them not for revenge is sweet
as they turn backs and raise their kilt.