A Single Moment

Keeper of a single moment,
Seeker of one point in time,
Why are you sitting alone?
Do you live for your loneliness’s form?

Knowing what has brought you here,
Is all that matters to you,
At what point did it all go wrong?

Seeking all in a single moment,
Seeking that fabled point in time,
Giving it all up for one clear meaning,
When thousands of vague ones should have sufficed.

The Way Has Lost Me

The way has lost me. You see the path can’t find me. I know where it is, I know that I want it. But the path can’t find me, it seems to be lost.  

The path can’t find me, I know it sounds strange, but when I went to follow my dreams, I found the path had lost me. And now I can’t find my way. The path has been lost in the woods all day.  

The path has been lost, and who I wonder will find it, and this is sometimes answered, in the living moment.  

When one fine day I turn on the TV and see someone with my ideas, and my dreams. So you see they had found my path that had strayed from me. And now my dreams are gone from me.  

Nostalgia’s Song

A simple melody pulsing, 

In time all hate dissolves. 

And the soft tone carries, 

A feeling of nostalgia on the wind. 

The melody comes from hate but only out of love. 

And it was born from war, 

But lives for peace. 

Knowing light’s love is only the start, 

Is what this melody sings. 

For love and light are only the beginnings of the song. 

The rest is far more beautiful. 

Wisdom

When the journey begins,  

And the only thing you have, 

Is the wit of your head and the dirt under your feet. 

When you take that first step forwards, 

Not knowing what’s ahead, 

A world of possibilities marked down on your map. 

The forest of things that you could or could not do, 

Seems impossible to navigate through, 

But maybe there’s a way.  

Or maybe I’ll be lost in life forever…. 

I Once Though I Knew the Truth

As I wandered, lost in the raging tempest. Amid the swirling sea, not knowing were to go or how to do it less, obviously.

But I had not long to fear for soon came a gentle breeze amid the swirling storm. It did not push or pull but only hinted at the end of the storm.

Though I hesitated at first not sure what to do I soon found it wise to let the breeze guide me. It did not make things easer it only showed me the way as if maybe it know what I was going through or maybe it was only fulfilling it’s purpose, but it lead me through and now I can see the clear horizon.

But now I here you want to take the breeze away controlling the weather in some mysterious way.

Do you have the right, can you hear the song echoing do you know were it comes from?

I do as I have seen the light so I will tell you.

It comes from the moaning voices of the living dead rising from the grave; they did not make it through the storm so this is there fate!

It comes from the last sour note uttered by the snakes and lizards played by a band, of dead and moaning voice singing of sadness and dread.

It comes from those who through some fluke of nature can only express theme selves in a picture. Or from those who can only express theme selves on a field.

Or perhaps you are the source of the sound never escaping the storm trapped forever.

But let me tell you why you are wrong. You cannot control the wind you think you can but in the end you only suppress it and do you know what that does to a storm? I’ll tell it makes it bigger and soon to lash out with infinity scorn.

It will destroy you, and you will see in the end an all-consuming storm with fire and lightning breathing dragon’s overhead!

And then the storm will clear and all will see the white and blue horizon and you will know why you were wrong, obviously.

The Legacy of Heroes

When the skies turned red as blood, when the earth turned pail with fright, when the water froze in fear, and when the flame would not ignite.

When hope was thrown into the wind, and lost on the mist. At last four savors appeared the downtrodden, with power and meekness to spare.

They had no reason to save us, but that never concerned them, it seemed natural that they were our saviors, and we would be free at last.

They were truly bold when danger came, casting darkness aside, their fight never ending, their lives thrown aside.

They would do anything for us, and I don’t know why, it’s as though they could care less how there own lives end.

And after overcoming all the blocks to their path they finally found a way to save our world from destruction, cheering filled the streets, this day never to be forgotten.

But time slowly rusts promises away, and though those heroes keep on living to this very day. Not a soul can remember what they did for us, lost onto the darkness, and burned to gray dust.

And now that we have killed their memory, the ones that saved our lives, we simply disregard the fact that we threw it all away.

And now the wheel turns as time slowly passes on, and a new group searches for their saviors, to save them, from us.

Fall Apart

It always seems like the world is falling apart,
The seams of our society always just an inch from unraveling,
But it never seems to.
Is it just an illusion created by our own fear?

It always seems like the higher our heroes climb the harder they fall,
Some of us fear to climb to high out of fear of falling,
Others climb to high out of fear of being stuck to the ground.
But why must our heroes always fall?

It always seems like the worst of humanity is on display,
That our own darkness is reflected in our media,
But where is our light?
Is it relegated to pointless quotes printed on the pages of our calendars?
Must we live with the knowledge that our only hope is in obscurity?
That the shadows of our society hold our brightest light,
And the most open fields hold the darkest shadows cast by our apparently black sun.

Must we hold onto hope as our last hope and our only hope for our world?
Is the only light in our sky a single star?
Today I ask you what gives you hope,
Let the light hidden in our shadows come out,
Let the shadows hidden out in the open be put to sleep.
Hope…hope…hope….

Monument of Death

When the cheery blossoms fell like rain, when time I could ignore.
I went to see a black wall with names lost in war.
I looked into that sandblasted wall and found to my surprise, that standing beyond its darkened veil, was a face with my eyes.

This monument of death, so simple, yet so complex, had something to say, though it fell upon many deaf ears.
It said “You must pay the price of freedom, yes indeed, but to pay the price in bodies with interest still due, you will never find your debt paid, a grater balance will always be due.”
But this wall held only regret no solution was inside, so I left this place to find it, I may succeed in time.

We say we will remember, the lessons the dead teach. But I think I see a shadow on the land, were the next monument of death will stand.