The Last Seed My family glass & rust fragile & corroded crumbling at the touch Erased history shame & tears we continued on our path Sins elude the breakwater ocean swallowed all a repentant crossing Meals eaten in silence prayers said in fear no one dared to question The last tree has fallen I am the last twig sheltering the last seed No One Left to Hear Talk is cheap. Always cheap. Counting pennies for a dime. Actions play the mime, refusing to recite their lines. I buried a crucifix once, hoping to grow some faith. The ground opened up to swallow me. Hair tangled in knots like a fist pulling out roots of truth. Lavender speaks in soft whispers. What colors do you hear? Pennies tarnished and pitted. Chatter, chatter, chatter. The asking price for a word is an entombed relic. The cost of life, caged by lies, trapped without a voice. The prefix of time sits on shoulders of thought, not able to utter a syllable. Bound by convention, it sinks deeper beneath contrition, buried along with my cross. I Ask the Sky for More Standing still, alone, upon the hill / above the clouds. Dreams turn red / they burn through time. Time practices its lines over, and over, but cannot speak; muted to all who would listen / its tongue severed. I ask the sky for more / it does not answer. Thunderous silence fills my head. I stare into white light / blinded by your brilliance. I stand still, alone, upon the hill / above the clouds. You were so beautiful / your eyes so green. You slipped through barriers of reality. I climb even higher. Stars reach out to take my hand. They dance for joy / I join the dance. The end is near <I am ready>. Stepping off the galaxy, I fall into your vacuous night Finding the Truth of Who I Am there is no roof only a starry expanse reaching ever further beyond the dawn of man we trip over words light as feathers always searching for truth in the timelessness of tomorrow ideals do not equate as yesterday draws us back I was such a fool turning my face away reality played its little ruse a thousand years passed through our fingers riding imagination back home time does not change who we are unless we deem it so The Curse of Green Eyes Greed festers in my veins / seeping through my pores. Wanting what I cannot have. Always seeking more. Born with green eyes / the curse before me came. Helpless to my fate. Desire was my calling / envy was my name. I craved the peace I could not have, even that I wanted more. Nothing was for nothing, and everything was less. Time passed and light dimmed. Of memories, I have none. One emotion remains, the tireless pursuit of what I cannot have. To the very end of hope, a lust fills my soul. To quench the mighty thirst that bore me through this world. To calm the fire and know quietude just once. Gateway to Hell Standing at the gateway to hell. There is no going forward / no going back. Paralyzed / afraid to breathe. Encircled by a fire of hate & apathy. One small move, and we topple over the edge. A devouring vortex of horror sucking us in. Four years of uncertainty / two years in captivity. War caps off the dread. Fear of annihilation if we step too far. Where do we turn / where do we go? Darkness closes in all around. A world trembles. Can hell be far behind? Beyond our reach / behind our knowing / lies a place where we play games. Games of life and death. Foreboding stillness awaits the eruption of truth. A truth that stands alone. We are the makers of our own hell. We pave the path we trod.