And Farewell to those I did not mention,
The absence of you is no mean intention,
Only you may know if you really knew me,
It is now time to write for yourself your own story,
All I ask is that you remember me truly,
The way I was; nothing extraordinary.
From the cold ashes of my memory,
Will one stir the true thought of me,
Out of the remains of my fallen ember,
Surely, I will not be gone forever,
The achingly pristine icicle of december,
Must again arise through the rushing river,
Give birth to new wisdom, hope will again stir,
The fire cannot be extinguished, not ever,
Only passed down, on to another,
All that I ask, is that all remember.
What is a dream to my being,
To justify the way it takes wing,
And opens my eyes to seeing,
Uplifting my soul to believing.
What is an emotion to my soul,
To leave it feeling so whole,
Yet depriving me of all control,
As it reorients my visionary goal.
What is a lie to my integrity,
To bereave me of any nobility,
In a world where all is empty,
Yet somehow demands morality.
What is love to my heart,
To bind me to this art,
Refusing me to be apart,
From the one I knew from the start.
Why We Write
We write to run, we write to fly,
To soar above the world,
We cry to feel, we cry to lie,
To escape the hidden sword.
I pain to live, to breathe again,
To heave in breaths of light,
I gasp for air, I seek the men,
Those few free who fight.
The sorrow slays, the sadness seeps,
Into the bones of night,
Where none but I, in solitude weeps,
With the forsaken gift of sight.
We fall to flee, we fly to fall,
To land amongst the clouds,
Above the sobs, above the crowds,
Where the Dream Realm welcomes all.
By the absurdity of life, I declare existence obsolete,
I outline the futility of strife, and triumph a lying feat,
Imposed by men, ignorant though they may be,
But you refuse to comprehend, the end is like sleep,
So to you I recommend, such that was to me, sweet.
Love was a soothing melody to my weary mind,
Friendship, a hidden treasure that was not always kind,
Authenticity, or in other words, honesty, was hard to find,
Yet nothing was so exquisite when truly divined,
Imagination, my savior, a memory impossibly defined,
And fantasy, a haven that I never really left behind.
The Desire Of A Dream
Every rise must give way to new strength,
Falling before the onslaught is inevitable,
What truly leads to fulfillment at any length,
Is the return at the call of the complete cycle.
Like the tree cast down under the weight of time,
Discarding but a feeble seed,
So small in thought yet in blossom so sublime,
As the glow of the mighty deed,
Grows into a journey past all glory in it's simple climb.
From above or below, a dream is all the same,
Whether in sounds or in color, the measure is not the frame,
To arise and to stir, to shine brilliantly within the flame,
To feel is to sow, to breathe desire into your name.
You betrayed me once. You betrayed her before.
And you swore
That your life was sacred
You would threaten it - No more
You nearly broke, you nearly fell
All was nearly lost again
But all life awoke
And broke the spell
That nearly snuffed out the life of men
A promise made, a promise kept
A battle has been won
Yet war still wages
And love still wept
In waiting the risen son
I come before you night and day
As a beacon of hope and truth
To shed love and light upon the way
[...] Read more
Look into the mirror,
What can you truly see,
Is it a reflection of yourself,
Or is it reality?
I once dreamed I could fly away,
I had wings of my own,
This dream so precious, so real to me,
Encouraged me to stay,
What a deception it was when I woke at home,
My wings were clipped,
My dreams were shattered,
I had been cast off my throne.
The tears of pain that I shed,
Reminded me of what a wise man once said.
'When life is hard and your heart is dead,
Sanctuary can always be found,
In us is the way to be silently lead,
To a place where treasure is found'
So when you close your eyes at night,
I hope you will think of me.
[...] Read more
Out of the humid bonds entombing my shallow frame,
Stirs the mute memory of a former fame,
From beneath the tumbling leaves of a child's game,
Are exhaled the ethereal remains of my name.
Above the hollow echo of a rhythmic persistence,
Endures the faint glow of humane resistance,
From beneath the ages of the outworn distance,
Struggles the enshrouded beam of a forsaken brilliance.
Unseen behind the tremors of a peaceful symphony,
Is harbored the quiet vibrancy of a living melody,
Quickening into the hallow whisper of a forsworn fury,
Restoring the unshakable faith of a stillborn clarity.
Amid the shattered pieces of an unshared thought,
Slumber the sole fragments of a war well fought,
Poured into the beginnings of emotions unwrought,
The master tragedy spoken between 'is' and 'ought'.
Deep Inside Of Me
Of midday light and hues of splendor,
My heart has never known,
Of the laughs of men and the warmth of another,
I ponder untouched on the silent throne.
Of the glory of the beloved's chatter,
My ears have never heard,
Of the witless symphony of melodic pleasure,
My mind lies implacably unstirred.
Of the union of soul through a single glance,
My eyes have never perceived,
Of the unspoken promise of a single chance,
The father of lies was deceived.
Of the twinkling spark of the fabled lore,
My lips have never dreamed,
Of the the seeking hand of peace from war,
I fall as the angel unredeemed.
[...] Read more