star above the trench
hanging in a cleaner place
that this endless war

your old winter robe
shaped only by memories
still hangs in my heart

Open a book
discover a landscape
waiting for you explore
your map is made from footsteps
where the writer walked before

We are the fallen
bereft of life
but filled with music
we sing with a speeding bullet’s zing
our lyrics the crack of splintered bone
a symphony written for us alone
in the land where all are supposed to be free
so much then for liberty

Early morning rain
washes any weekend traces
from coffee scented Monday faces

great ship in the fog
creaks low on a rising tide
rusting whale in pain

Dying sky
painted beautiful
the Gods would weep
if indeed there were Gods to see
the molten tips of living trees
and mountains pink
reflected in a coral sea
what a mistake to blink and miss
a glorious sunset
such as this