The day seemed to start in an old fashioned way With arguments, laughter and children at play, The only thing different and wholly unplanned Was the man on the beach who drew dreams in the sand, He looked different some way, as though not of this time And his pen was a silver topped cane of life’s rhyme, That drew imaged cartouches and scrolls of the day Yet the incoming tides washed them slowly away.
From pink dawn to deep twilight he wandered the shore And he always found places that he could explore, Where the gold parchment sand was untouched by the sea Where his writings were safe and his soul would be free, He would write without nought but the words in his heart Until all of life’s daydreams had drifted apart, When the twilight was lost in the heart of night’s shade And his cane drew Amen’s to the prayers it had made.
The man walked through midnight, his cane dragged behind As he thought of what dreams in the morning he’d find, And he looked out to sea with the moon in his eyes While he thought of the many ways life laughs and cries, Then he savoured the dawn as it crept into view While he sorted his dreams from the false to the true, And he wiped off his cane as he strolled up the beach For his cane’s written night dreams were not out of reach…
A philosophical question for anyone who has an idea. Imagine my hands are a set of scales. In my right hand I hold this crazy little thing called love. You can choose anything you want to place in my left
There are many dreams kept in my heart, dreams that sway my soul; dreams of great fire burning, simmering ‘but no one stops to warm themselves long enough, strangers only see a wisp of smoke. I can almost unveil to
Tears of Man You have the right to remain silent. Do you make the choice or remain violent? Do you evolve and become more civilized? Or do you choose to stay belligerent? You choose to be healthy, like you are
The bones are brittle as are the thoughts they crumble events of yesterdays that never happened things that happened not remembered today becomes another time faces and events mingle become a crazy quilt He sits and stares unaware of a
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