When I was up,
Skipping cloud to cloud,
No one was found,
I sang for none to hear.

The next day I rise
Yawned-
and surprise,
It left me with just the Fear.

I cannot speak,
This voice I lost, left the day it found no ear.

The people stare
They warn beware, apologetic hugs.
Apprehension clothed by guise.

Groaned and fought,
through exasperated thought,
A bitter lesson this is taught:
In murmured state, accepting fate,
"**** that voice,
It’s incessant noise."
Silence makes this clear.

Now use two things called ears,
Listening for,
That long lost voice.
A rhyme beyond it’s years

How does one ask for peace
When prosperity never led to longevity
How can the world end all hunger
And not fall to gross gluttony

I see the elders
Beaten, starved, survived
Cherishing the joy of a softer life

I see the younger
Fallen to the levity
Of a life without much gravity
Overlooked for a lack of experience

You can't fault anyone seeking
Refuge from pain
Yet, there will be no end to hurting
Until you've borne enough for calluses

T'is the circle of life
Always seeking to end the blemishes of life
Yet
Always longing for hunger when full
Always missing to ache when numb

Though
There's always hope for the hopeful
Some hope for AN END, A VOID
To the endless cycle
To everything
Others hope for something different
If the truth is ever unknown till experienced
And hope is hope
Why not hope for the unfathomable
Where suffering is not prerequisite to joy
It is not banished or outlawed
It simply does not exist
Nor can it even be pronounced,
Along with DEATH
And TIME

Unlike BLISS,
And the liberty of pure existence
With absolute free will

Endure the momentary
For the everlasting reward
When you close your eyes
You can believe in the darkness
Or await the wonder of an eternal dream

I wrestled with God
and I won,
Victory now marked by a limp.
I shuffle through life.
My infirmaries the people's jest.
Yet I know-
The roles She willfully exhanged.
She looks above from my footstool.
She does not grovel,
She is no sore loser.
She knew Her opponent.
She knew the game She designed-
The rules She made for man.
She stepped down to contend in my arena.
She shook my hand,
the Referee set aside,
She raised my arm.
At last, Atlas rises...
And Creator and Sabbath are one.