the new day is come
and with it the tree sparrows
to be my spirit’s conduits
for those impressions
I may at first think inconsequential
small reflections
in the greater expanse of morning
I watch them flit, and float, and fly
and follow their songs
with my breath
before exhaling mine own.
there’s is an age old song, bearing truth
I pray mine can compare.
the hills of twilight
ascend to night’s great mountains
where snow falls as dreams
what is this talk of freewill
uttered as it is as test of faith
’tis but the scapegoat of belief
as Iscariot could no doubt attest
if he were not damned
when breath is gone
and all we are is dust
our hearts become diamonds
given time
to be set together
for eternity
mark how quickly pass the days
once we know their worth
for time is owed and must be paid
as sure as spins the earth.
what evil lives under the sun
save all our good deeds left undone
within a fevered dream
I looked upon Elysium’s plains
and to their furthest horizons
not a single soul was seen
the bless-ed had moved on
and scorched the earth behind them.
it is the darkest shadows of memory
which hold court in the smallest hours
releasing, as they do, their charges
those secrets long held from the light
regrets abroad on nightly parole
to spread their lies and doubts,
but lose not faith, under siege, nor will
for the morning as always comes
and with it the keys of dawn.
the blighters rock 