A strong and broken man.A strong man is defined by his vows,
and he had bled for his.
Years could not age what he had swore,
and she wished he had sworn for her.
A captain of honor and virtue
damaged by his hope.
She struggled with his obsession
and grew jealous of it.
Was she not worthy of his regard?
Not a symbol for adulation?
Could she not tempt a loving word,
or even break the skin?
The stronger the man the worse the break,
and what was he if not broken?
Hope had scarred but did not mend
the loss he bore on his back.
She felt his eyes recede
and knew he thought of her.
A woman that had won his strength
and lost it to his ambition.
A man who loved so purely
it reflected in his crimes.
He felt the loss so deeply
it imbedded in his skin.
She never knew herself
to crave a hopeful man.
But she loved him for his vow,
and wanted him to break it.
UsEvery face has an eye, every eye has a sight,
To seek and know, what is wrong and right.
Every sight has a vision, every vision has a dream.
And every dream has a future, to find, to fight.
Every face has an ear, every ear hears a tale,
Of good and bad, success or fail.
Every tale has an end, every end has a hope,
And every hope can live no matter fire or hail.
Every face has a heart, every heart has a soul,
To lead the world to that one last goal.
Every soul has a voice, to speak and to trust,
And every voice, is one of us.
Of Men and MetaphorsIt was a dark and stormy night.
Really, I mean, you ever heard an interesting story that started on a sunny day with mild cloud cover around an hour or so before dinnertime?
Exactly. Moving on.
The air held a coldness that seeped through brick and stone. It crawled through flesh, freezing blood in icy veins, chilling bones like a slithering ghost in the blackness.
...but not so cold that it was a snow-storm. Cotton candy floating down from an inky sky, shining like diamond eyes in the starlight as soft flakes swirl and dance on feather-light feet in the breeze...
Not quite the image we're looking for.
Rain lashed from the depths of the cruel heavens, wind whipping from the starless smothering blanket above. Thunder roared in fury, cracking alongside his bright lover as she streaked her fire to the lonely earth.
Yes, lightning is a chick. It makes sense. Hair of white-gold light from her glowing moon-face, gown of silver thread spreading down her lithe figure, hem sweeping against the c
NostalgiaFall and winter drifts apart
The world arrives at a new start.
Tell me not to worry,ages back
But today I bloom far from the black.
Days and weeks multiply
With every count of seconds that fly
The rain brings forth both sadness and joy
Yet where I stand,the ground remains dry.
All unfolds and welcomes anew
Washing away misfortune
With the gentle breeze that passes
By the garden I gaze into the past
Perhaps a moment
I've shared memorably in a place of lament
But who am I
In the face of light
That I am damned to give up the fight?
Where shadows consume
When seasons stand still
My leaves sigh and hide for the night.
Waiting for another forever
While the eagle soars in the distance
High above the world
His quill a midnight gift by my sill.