Astra

Beginnings...

The field was cold, not barren yet,
But cold still,
A slight frost, not morbid,
Gleaming, almost cheerful,
As the Sun peeked beyond,
Melting, gently,
Revelling in the warmth,
Soaking the ground below.

Ordinary, this was not,
A blood thirsty monster by the day,
Sorrowful yet patient beast by night,
This was a battlefield,
It sought conflict,
Turmoil, havoc, chaos,
Erratic yet strong its pulse ran,
Brief unwanted breaks, relentless.

But the field was not bad,
Not in the least,
Brutal yes, but never evil,
It was fair, honest always,
Men, women, all beings alike,
All with a story, all with a mark,
And one in them,
Greater than all.

A being, a purpose singular,
Driven to start it all,
Start it all again,
Again after the end,
An end that seemed befitting,
Befitting a system past,
Past its prime, a shadow,
A shadow, putrid and vile.

History

We have created history,

In music, in words, in deeds,

Written in books, recorded,

Spoken and heard,

Seen and read.

So much, beyond measure,

Remember, we may,

Or forget, if we should,

But there it is, always will be,

For you, for me, for those who are going to be.

Go, make what you may,

Call us heroes, call us thrives,

Heathen, heretics, men of peace,

It was what it was, is no more,

A story, a tale, it matters not.

Rambling...again...and again...

Let me paint you a picture,
Show you a dream,
Take you out of this world,
Make you see.

Imagine, you walk on the sky,
The Earth looks down on you,
Time is just a concept, a whim,
Nothing lasts as nothing was.

A book opens up,
Talks to you while it writes,
Religion is not a word,
There is no dictionary.

You paint a picture,
Love what you see,
All the while fading away,
Wishing for what could be.

End to thee

As I leave, should I let you be,

Let you burn, in my hindsight,

Or should I squeeze your wick,

May be just close my eyes,

Pretend the light is gone,

How do I look then,

For a light brighter,

A flame stronger...

Want

Hither, child, hither,

A tale I must share,

Of a time long gone,

A time of freedom,

Of life, of love,

Of joy unbound,

A time that might still be.

Much there was,

Much to share,

Much to keep,

Much to let you be,

To sleep in peace,

It was a time of need.

Time now is that of want,

Abundance there is,

And we make more,

And yet more we want,

We want to have what we do not need,

And what we need but can no more see.

Dream

I visit you often,
In subtle noises,
In deafening silences,
In the deepest highs,
In my hopeless dreams.

Yes, it is there is see,
Is it you, may be me,
A sheet of glass, a mirror, could be,
Shall I touch, my I feel,
May be not, let it be.

No, I wish, I must,
Know who it is,
Confront, lest I lose,
What could yet be,
The best of you, the best of me.