Yesterday was the rain.
Today is the sun.
The son will reign.
Boreas winds undone.

Love can be given
Love cannot give
Truth can be hidden
But love is a fib

A golden age is grey today.
The ash returned to dust.
Forgotten are those who reside in the residue.
Forgotten are those like us.

To live and die on the tip of the tongue.
We poets live forever but our words are hung.

You:
Evoke
Emote
  Enough
To float
Just talk
Don't feel
  Don't think
  Just quote

You take the words but not the time.
You take the songs but not the chimes.
Go ahead and leave us sore.
Let them take it all.
They need it more.
They need us like we need the azure.
Soar...Soar

If you take a minute
To watch the seconds
You'll realise
These hours
Aren't ours
They're stolen
We ought to be careful
The hands of time
Hold our futures

Every piece of pride,
Pivoting on the pinnacle of pleasure,
Perishing on the petals of a rose,
Pink rose.
Spring rose.
Sprung rose.
A perverted willingness to pursue,
The spoils of what matters most,
pink matter.
Outshone a impossibly beautiful performance.
One meant for the faithful & virtuous.

She will die
Her legacy will dilate
She will diarise
Her dire straits
On diamond slates

She will die a dilute of what was once a concentrate.

Contemplate what her cons can connotate but exonerate all thoughts which harbour hate.

No, she is not a saint.
No, she is not a villain.
Oh she has made me great and
So she will make my children

Solace is found within Triumph
Triumph is brought by Trial
Trial is experienced through Pain
Pain is harboured in Words
Words are of the Tongue
The Tongue is taught by the Mind
The Mind is taught by the Eye
The Eye learns from People
People learn from books
Books harbour Words
Words must be written
Writing is Solace.