Am I the rain in your truth

Are you the storm in mine?

Life’s bleeding questions

running out of time.

Hope is a dragon,

Faith on his back

gently steering the reigns

of every human heart,

Towards a war cry

of freedom.

In shadows deep, where silent dreams are born,

The searing truth of time cuts like a knife.

Within the mirror's gaze, my spirit torn,

Reflects a life besieged by inner strife.

The laughter, once a melody so bright,

Now echoes hollow in the heart's vast halls.

Each day a struggle, fading into night,

Where dreams of glory crumble and then fall

Yet in this realm where hopes are dashed and spun,

A truth emerges, clear as morning's dew:

That battles fought are not so easily won,

And what's reflected is both old and new.

In life's great tapestry, each thread entwines,

To weave the tale of what it means to Be.

Fierce denials,

negligent

habits.

Fierce denials,

negligent

habits.

Take me from the dust

Storm Father,

Tide Mother.

Morality

does not deter

a belly

empty

of patience.

I no longer believe the dream.

Upright man of crawling soul.

Scream in their silences.

Rage in their laughter.

Cry in their smiles.

We walk as lobsters do,

crawling,

beneath tides of sky,

as birds swim above us.

Into the future we stride,

living the hope of now,

grateful for before.

Blood drops of fire,

circled by specks of bone

manifest conscious germs,

praying, to sacrificed flesh.

Fattening

To be fed

Ass stuffed

When dead.

Revelations,

begun in thirst.

How many Storms?

How many Heavens?

This is not a refutation of caution:

However,

Wherever, one must go,

So goes woe.

Awakened

to realizations

of hope sublime.

Love is

a promise of grief,

cocooned in relief,

Dead in orange red,

Military, proud

mushroom cloud,

growing,

as monsters do,

devouring the things,

forgotten & new.