beyond whats right

as darkness overwhelms
reminiscent eyes peer past
to a time of choices
regret and disappointment
for the results of being
planted ladders of elevation
where all roads lead to the present
and they that reside there
live on a whim
happy of the best choices
and sad where choices got lost

upon this stage, a cast unwise
blind to burgeoning potential
yet keen to sinking ships
with the pride of the titanic
that sail on enemy waters
God is a distant memory
ringing somewhere in a Sunday sermon
the are lost on chaos
on the pyramid of creation
the maker set upon Egypt
with a thunderous big bang
in a time before man

the wind soon carry these
on a fluttering of gale galore
hardships become monuments
built on pools of blood
that posterity will revere
whose foundation unquestioned
then the ice bergs will sink all doubts
thawed by the friction of walking feet
on joys of job and his kind
will knock the heavenly roo

f

as poured waters ape the shape
ignorant to the depths of the sea
a drop still in those flowing eternal
mankind is lost in their heads
bedeviled by an understanding
that forever humors the gods.

the pilgrimage

go on son,go!
a seed fall far from the roots
a path before it unwinds
the threat of unknown
the joys untold
lie on ahead
how will it be known ,alas!
until it comes to pass?

go on son,go!
find you a brook and drink
see a thousand kisses upon its water
of beasts and man alike
paupers and kings
of mystics and soothsayers
all fed by the hearth
the alter upon which,the earth

go on son,go!
listen to the winds as you go
of my love hearken their speech
many are led astray
by grounded jeers but,
hear that which preach
of that which extends thy reach

go on son,go!
see the western sky breed
run as darkness engulf it all
the lairs of evil will form
many find a waiting sojourn
a beaming light is seen afar
they'll find a smiles flare
where none till did dare

go on son,go still
touch hearts along the way
its free give and live free
we mould with our hands
a world of our choice
if hurt look above
find healing in the bosom of love

come son,come back!
your scent is moist upon the dew
upon ones sunset it helps to know
to dream is to hope
climb the mounts and find us
hidden but look still
silence teaches the willing
as scrolls enlighten all but the blind
rest your head upon your tombstone
and let all that you know
rot and become billowing dust.