Violet

On slick summer eves,

Her dreams would bask

In the sun's soft kiss

As it descended, at last,

Beyond the earth's edge; 

Violet and vast.

Eyes linger in the distance, 

As shadows move past.

Ribbitting

Gabby, savvy frogs line the wet tarmac road.

The King's coronation!

The most righteous of toad.

Moonlight drips silver

About his ribbit visage.

Such regal disposition!

Such pristine ribbit lineage!

The Frog King is crowned.

No ribbit tale too tall.

The collective croaks in unison:

'The bloke with the shiny hat rules us all!'

Unrestrained

To override the instinct of self-preservation, 

Commit your mind and spirit.

It's doubt annihilation.

The purpose and the meaning is right outside your door.

Break that cursed lock.

Stop asking for more.

The riches and the glory, we cannot comprehend.

Sure, weigh the precious gold.

It's all for pretend.

Find something to die for. It's the last thing we do.

Stare into the sky more.

Love created it for you.

Whisper gently

Find me in darkness.

It's where I stand.

Under cloud in chill air

On a cool, wet land.

Drifting upwards

To the firmament's hands.

It's where you'll find me.

It's where I understand.

Whisper softly.

Your voice is what mends.

Never mind my twisted, broken hands.

They'll lift you gently, 

To where we understand...

Do you feel the raindrops?

Do you sense the sky descend?

Whisper gently.

With me there's no pretend.

Inspired by Michael J. Sheehey's song - Twisted Little Man
(listen to find the flow)

The Well

I hope one day to meet the source

Of this well with the bottomless wit.

Such peculiar games you play with me.

For every flame, a hundred never lit.

Toil

When you think you've reached the bitter end,

You've only breached the crust.

How many swings of the pick, young man?

In large numbers we place our trust.

Live for the moment you hit that vein

Of truth buried in the soil.

How deep and thick will the riches run?

How long will the last of us toil?

The Song

At the centre a beam of light hums,

Around which our patterns dance as drums

Beat to form the foundational heart

Of this Body in which we play our part.

Seeking our truest notes to sing

Resonant harmonies, the bell will ring

When each moves in its purest form

Among others of whom this life is born.

The Song awaits your novel view,

So pluck your strings - the days are few.