I've looked out of this window, And that, Whereupon I remember the most, Those same nights, Sensory; a blissful bouquet of all things golden, Those same heights, Perfection calling; a moment paused, forever, And yet they're no longer the same, For when I turn away, Unbearably, I am alone.
Up over houses, And between soft green leaves, Is a gentle blue haze, That gives new meaning, To a glorious breath, seized deeply, And from a silent window, For although the clouds have gone, And the sun has glanced back, I find - thankfully - There's still rain.
Though in life we live within the present, We unwittingly nurture, within us, Personalities beyond our reality, And when our friends leave us, We find that part of them actually remains, Waiting to connect with us again, But as our hearts and minds reach out, Expectantly, We find we are just haunted by the ghosts,… Continue reading The Ghosts of Those Departed
In the place of those who take leave, Better things can be found, Such as when the rain comes; Summer bark may turn black, Yet alongside it, Colours begin to pop.
As I make my song, I find it answered from below, And in peculiar ways I'd like to know, So down through the green and black, I fly, Twixt the shaded realms of time, Where ages have manifest, As strands and fur, Amidst my sweet pine friends, Until at the source I arrive, To find… Continue reading The Birds Must Pity Us