Tragic events and triumphant reprisals encapsulate us all
Pleasure temporarily abounds while pain steadily evolves
Savoring the sanctity of helping hands that soften our hastened fall
We graciously give from within our hearts the love God has installed
Through smatterings of ecstasy and splattenings of mournful tears
Beyond inconsolable shatterings and formidable batterings of fear
We overcome the timid patterings of our hear and courageously persevere
Amid the scornful chattering and violent streets unflattering to live another year
Robustly we laugh, agonizingly we cry, searching for ways to mask the pain we're denying
Despite our gaffes and musings why, we dust ourselves off and resolve to keep trying
hanging onto evanescent hopes and unrealized dreams, our crestfallen souls slowly dying
The unmerited compassions and charitability of others so truly awe-inspiring
In sufferings we share, in times of calamity we dare to rise above the fray
Never contest to be devoured by the afflictions and perilous challenges of the day
Though our lives ebb and flow within the tides of rebirth and inevitable decay
We strive to find the silver lining glimmering beyond the shadows of dismay
The gamut of emotions we wistfully fail to embrace or humbly succumb to
Leaves us wretchedly torn asunder as we trepidaciously figure out our next move
The tempestuous battle between love and hate intercedes within everything we do
We scream and yell and raise all kinds of hell trying to mediate this cosmic feud
Yet in bitter chagrin, when Father Time snatches of second wind, we start to fade away
We face the little of regrets and reality of impending death, faithful we're going home one day
As we aspire to stoke our fires and revel in the warmth of the coals that remain
We say our prayers and whisper our goodbyes as our swansong echoes its final refrain.
A labyrinth memorized,
A habit waking before dawn, everyday, at night.
Too dark alone with her thoughts,
Ghostly figures across distant, half-visible sky,
Practically invisible as the horizon dawns.
Single wanderers captured in scrolling pixels,
The image like spirits she turned off and on again.
Something of a freak show to see had vanished
Into the mist of reality.
Hooded figures in muggy gloom buried in the mist--
So beautiful, so fresh--insisted on privacy.
The excavation of her fear seemed harmless,
Out there in the for--but the damage glistened
Inside her eyes.
Her hidden path waiting, foraging, salvaging,
A little treasure; and after all, still sleeping.
Frightened by a strange battle each morning before dawn,
She had to guard the expedition all through
The cracked night.
The haze of color began to dissipate, that distant bell rang,
Its single note vibrated in the air.
The heat against her face that morning
Was waiting to greet her again.
It was clear she was supposed to control
the tempest born at night.