The light that we all seek,
is shrouded in darkness,
so we must fight,
to survive the dark,
The bleak, dying world,
shimmers with black,
until suddenly a rose,
starts to bloom,
The rose is red,
but then it opens,
into a brilliant purple,
it is magnificent,
We must protect,
the one beacon of hope,
the rose,
that bloomed in the darkness.
This world we live in,
why is it so harsh?
to the nicest of us?
we endure so much,
Strength,
it takes a lot of this,
to survive to fight,
this cold reality,
When will it be okay?
probably never,
when will it stop hurting,
to even breathe?
These are questions,
we must carry silently,
we must let emotions come,
even if it is fear, anger,
This world has wonderful things,
we have to remember that,
we were put here for a reason,
so we must go on until we find it.
This place is like a memory,
it can be forgotten,
but can be pictured,
forever,
This photograph,
that never fades,
is one of my favorites,
to this day,
Bring your photos,
put them in a box,
now it is a box,
of memories,
We lie one life,
so we take pictures,
so someone else can wonder,
who we once were,
The photos are forever,
they never fade,
they are our precious memories,
to this day.
It’s almost 3 a.m.,
I am wide awake,
listening to the sounds,
of this old house,
creak and crick,
crack and break,
the walls are tearing,
wallpaper pealing,
this house is old,
it bore many memories,
can it hold more?
of course,
when it finally comes time,
for the house to sleep,
we will gather ‘round,
and listen.
This pain that encompasses me,
It takes a hold and does not let go,
Like something wrapping around my body,
And then releasing and tightening,
It is here to stay,
this soul that I have,
so why is it always tormented?
by things unseen but always felt?
I am trapped here,
there is no way out,
no way for me to crawl,
out of this dark, dank pit,
This is spiraling out of control,
unless it is just me,
I can’t grasp a situation,
The pain is too much,
Slowly hearing the bells,
Eyes open slowly to darkness,
Am I dead?
There is nothing around me… nothing around me.
When one hears music,
an absolute beautiful tune,
it stays with you,
to the end of time,
It is as if an angel,
starts to sing,
or a violin,
plays so extravagantly,
The music begins,
the curtains rise,
lights flood the room,
on the darkness,
Music is light,
light which plays,
dances on air,
waltzes to the quartet,
Singing of perfection,
getting that right pitch,
is pure beauty,
that’s the music of angels.
This needs to happen,
as in,
not later, after, in the future,
now,
Life can be difficult,
believe me, I know,
but there are ups,
have faith,
When we lose hope,
it is when we falter,
we stagger, lose our way,
until someone finds us,
Hush,
do not worry,
it will all come into play,
the pieces will fit,
Hush, be still,
for good will come,
just be patient,
and wait.
This pain, this blood,
drip, drop,
it keeps us alive,
and is so fascinating,
The color is beautiful,
drip, drop,
a crimson red,
drip, drop,
like a rose,
It runs down,
drip, drop,
our skin and falls,
drip, drop,
It bleeds,
drip, drop,
until there is nothing,
until we run dry,
The red beauty,
drip, drop,
that is our very being,
drip, drop, drip drop.
We are just human,
just flesh and bone,
but we have a soul,
that is important,
We love,
get hurt, bleed,
but blood means,
we are alive,
When winter breaks,
everything seems dead,
like the life was sucked out,
until that one bud flowers,
Life is precious,
we have to cherish it,
make sure to love it,
and live to the fullest!
This thundering force,
that comes down in a sudden,
ravenous form,
of something that gives life,
Sometimes it can be scary,
looking outside, to the rain,
since it is coming down in sheets,
but it helps things grow,
Without it,
the world would be barren,
a wasteland, f
illed with despair,
Then the rolling thunder starts,
a flicker in the sky,
tells that rain is on its way,
to make the world whole again,
Thunderstorms come and go,
but rain is always precious,
and it should be recognized,
for it creates life, not destroys.