The hours rest wearily on your shoulders.
Wisdom come and gone, soulful glancing blows.
A world captured, a moment filled with breath.
Let your mind erase, let the answers flow.
The ease of sunset will hold tightly to your hand.
The emptiness of the moon will sooth the scars.
A pinprick of a puddle cooling your flesh.
Eyes dulled, grey, mediocrity shining through.
The final uttered words of the ******,

"Let it Be."

The world offers unforgiving solace.
Sanctuary from sin, blood for a price.
Sunrise, sunset, cycles, begin and end.
Try as you might, love as you might,
nevertheless, cobwebs strike once again.
A life lived alone, a moment crashed down.
Solitary comfort, bitter regrets.
Life begins, and life will end once again.
An apathy's painful strike at the heart.

Stand your ground, throw revolution to the wind.
From pit to peak we stand our hands entwined.
Black and blue feathers falling from the sky.
Our mothers and sons crying, "This is mine."
Wearing our crowns, thorns cast idly behind.
Blast the streets, show your intent, stomp your feet.

Each and every year, a million moments.
Offered by time, accepted gracefully.
Burned kindling, look the children in their eyes.
Accept not a truce, but a compromise.  
Ladle the broth, quench your thirst thankfully.
Fall in line, work, sleep, repeat in sequence.
Remember, forget, live, softly demise.
Mad men always hold onto life's surprise.

I don't want to go
to heaven.
I just want to see
the sunset
reflect in your eyes
one last time.

Storm the beach with sand-filled eyes.
Burying hatchets along the way.  
Let the turtle dove rest in your palm.
Hum the hymn for the sinful demise.
Bless the butcher and embrace the calm.
Lay in the gravel, embrace the newest day.

Driftwood and briar leaves, brambles and hay.
Dance with your demons, sever your earthly ties.
Destroy all around you, burn down the psalms.
Just turn off your mind, your balance, your sway.
It is time now dear child, you shall retire your qualms.
It is time now young darling to release your final sighs.

Contrive a little chalk line in the sand.
Swing your hips, dance idly to Satan's tune.
Let the amethyst drip through cloudy shores.
Strike iron, strike gold, and find a new land.
Let the child rest on warm days in June.
And your lover's arrow shall quiver soon.
Or perhaps get even, and nothing more.
The sun may show her your deepest secrets,
but the moon draws out the warmth from within.