It's the calling of the evening
And the sky looks like it's bleeding
I set on the porch in the cooling of the air
And the worries of the day, I no longer care
Listening to the birds last songs of the day
Before they take wing and fly away
Darkness slowly creeping up
As I wrap my hands around my warm cup
The sky changes to a deepened blue
Such a beautiful hue
I simply love this time of day and the changes the sky goes through
The fireflies look like stars on earth
And the children know of their worth
The chase them all around the yard
Hoping to catch a few off guard
I watch them play shadow tag, and I start to reminisce
Of my childhood memories and all the things I miss
Of all the fun me and my sister had
But then my thoughts grow sad
About all of my family that has passed away
Like my mom and dad and my mood starts to decay
And mosquitoes start to buzz my head
Guess it's time to go to bed
And dream about my dear loved ones
Until the mourning sun

The sound of heaven I heard
She was crying without any word
To you, normal it may seem
But it was her shriek, her scream
I heard her terrifying thunder
That was full of saddened wonder

Those dark clouds were flying
As the heaven was crying
I felt her tears fall
Touching me deep inside my soul
It was the storm of the rain
Filled with endless, eternal pain

In my heart I could feel
She was sad, she wanted to heal
Those tears of her took her sadness
Falling down with never ending madness
The pearls of the drops fell down
Crushing into our sinful town

When heaven had looked down, she broke
Saw so much hatred, her heart choke
On our behalf, she started to mourn
Maybe that's how rain and thunder are born
It only rains as hope to wash away our sin
It only thunders to calm the heavens from within

I walk into
the ruins
of the ancient temple
and feel the presence here
it is all around me
gently surrounding
in invisible caresses
it feels so strangely familiar
like the silent
understanding glance
of an old friend
or an unseen talisman
it is beating within me
pulse quickening
yet is unnamed
I let myself breathe it in
like an echo
of the spells of yore
wander through archways
of broken yet graceful doors
touch crumbled walls
let my fingers trace
the cracks in the stone
soon my words will fill them
as parched paper
is filled with legends
This is where
the ancients prayed
where people brought
their hearts
          in chanted verse
This is where people
placed hopes and dreams, made
requests to the universe
This is where faith
was expected
               to be so vitally forged
where offerings of fruit and grains
would fill up their hopes,
souls engorged
This is where eyes saw
timeworn brightness
of semi-precious stones
                  glyphs that held
significance, now under dust
like tiny bones
One can still see the
a venerable alter,
once held sacrosanct
under watchful, chiseled eyes
of the goddesses and their ranks
I sit upon the low stone bench,
           run my hands across mosaic,    
feel the force
I know that, despite its
acclaimed holiness
              this is not
love and light's main source
for that has all along
been inside me
pumping love within my veins
taking my spirit in journeys
to its own sweet, celestial planes
How we claim our
own private battles
   determine whether we lose or win  
As the sound
of my grounded heartbeats
rises up,
I am ignited
       from within

You plant a seed in the ground or a story in the media. You water the seed and you blog about the news story. You fertilize the seed and you do the same with the news media. If you are lucky then both will grow. The stark difference is that unlike a political story, the flower will smell so much better and be worth looking at.