the master of tempests

rising waves of the storm dancing on the edge of the courage of the crew

get back to the shore! I hear called and I'm off and know what to do

a clap, a crash, a dozen ghosts in our silhouettes chilling our bones

rain begins to fall, again sounds the call! and we heave with deep groans

a cloudy darkness swallows the ship with in the folds of  the storm and it still rains

the ghosts haunting our silhouettes drift away, a sudden calmness comes and remains

a pillar of light and a vision of the purest blue sky and I'm not sure what to do

the water as untroubled as a breath of relief heaved by tired backs and crew

a masters hand and a kind word to the storm and wind. peace, be still.

awoken the master you slept below, risen having done his fathers will.

what manner of man is this that even the waves and winds obey

what manner of men aught we to be? we have heard him say

we have heard him say "even as I am"

this is the time of our lives

The time of our lives

In seconds and minutes and days

Gives no justice no justice

No justice is given from an understated clock

A cloud of perspective, lost on
ticks and dashes

Counting down days and adding up minutes

Patience is thin in the thick of it all

Skewed by a villain with a place and
a purpose

 

A Politian that cannot deliver a
promise it promises

But not taxing on dinner on play on
service on memories

Then there is justice there is
justice given

To remember a life that was worth
living that was worth living!

 

It is the time of our life!

a little bird sighs

in the midst of his troubles the little bird sighed
the width and conscription of the sky is too wide

I can’t fly the length and I can’t fly the height
I can’t fly the width though I flap with my might

further and further but no nearer I come
the horizon is stubborn and as tight as a drum

I flap and aspire, contend, compete ‘til I fade
and the ache in my back is a sharp as a blade

to tired to rest, I wheeze and I whisper and dose
a raven who listened thoughtfully froze

cogitating and reflecting he chose all his words

the best to be said, could be said between birds

I humbly submit to your noble, grand rapture

A prophesy of a intransigent censure

you don’t know the sky like you know your own sigh
if only you’d hear keenly and wouldn't repine

the wind and the air, its lift and its flow
it'll carry you further then you'd otherwise know

the sunsets the promise the sunrise brings peace
a promise you'd you’d hear if your sighing would cease

the depth of empyrean is etched on the glow
of the horizon’s seraphic pink light that does show
the sky’s great oriel to the hem of the sky
its breadth is the span of the day of this life

when you wield all your strength and you’ve sung your last song
the length of the sky will be something you'll long

Every last sigh of grief and contempt

Comes from the forgetting for what the heavens are meant

The raven took flight with his wisdom and thunder

And the small bird turned back to his sighing and slumbered