Children of God

The Children of God.
These words are soft-
And complex. What is it
To be children, to be
Adolescent, to be young,
And gullible, to be something
Pure, and wonderful. Well,
it seems to me, that this
cannot be, these things are
Rare here in the land of 'liberty'.

Are we soft and gentle with touch?
Do we show love ever quite enough?
This tenderness of a mother's heart,
Seems quite unlike building walls,
After a winter's Frost. But then
again that something else it
Could mean, that it is something
Hidden, something yet to be seen.

And thinking on movements,
Playing on people's dreams,
Disorientates as if in a forest,
With no starlight for us to gleam,
Are children not in need of guidance?
Of some truth needed to be compelled?
To make the journey worth while,
Over life's rivers and dells.

With these faults, that too often
Cloud the mind of hope, in man,
And in reason. Almost as if
Subject to time out of season.
That all these fears can be
Washed away, gone. That in realizing
This true nature, this divine pun,
It is true we are like children,
As our dust unnoticed swirls,
Past the midday Sun.

Peccavimus

Childhood has past,
Too fast and unappreciated,
And now the vast highways
Of life lie before us,
Through shadows and mist we
Travel forth into unknown land,
With no stars to guide,
Nor any known tree, Nothing
Here which we have seen.

Too have grown old at such-
a young age,from need, necessity,
How the sins of the fathers,
Are the burdens of the sons,
Who shall pay this growing fee?
Why this penance you see is for you
And me. Oh, how to achieve faith
Before our world slips into glass,
To achieve hope, like a child,
At Christmas Mass.

It seems too often humanity
accepts its doom, to a slavery
Of fear, the Young and innocent
are the ones who suffer most.
Who shall pay, to absolve this
Heavenly wrath, peering through
A cracked looking glass. And all fades
To dusk,unavoidable, as anything-
Lost. For as any beauty it was
Transient, and quickly disappears,
Like this evening only memories
Accompanied by silently falling tears.

To smite down these gods,
Of vain agony, and our strength
Though small and unseen, is strong
Enough to lift mountains or in the
Least bring justice to an impoverished
People, We must seek, my friends in love,
Unyielding to any force of
Greed, and corruption, and hate,
To become that, which makes men great!

Now let us seize that heart of Olympic
Flame. A heroic people of history and name,
Returning us back from whence we came,
For dust to dust, A child and man,
Is but a minute from the same

Something personal

My Love,
What was it you once told me?
Something, as I try to think,
Hard... Never to see in deep
Grey eyes again. Across whirling
Desert sands, an induced shaman
Vision, deeper and even falling
into some distant land within,
And without you. Would you follow
Me, hear me, feel me? No I would think
Not, in a soft satin sheet. Too many days
and no thought of evening walks, climbing
in trees. My love, my love, oh how mine
Own heart has forsaken me. But now stop,
And slowly stepping towards the smoking door,
Lights gleaming from underneath,
My ancient grandfather, darkened by sun,
Feathered and with staff. Echoes of
A woman's cruel laugh, and the soul,
Gently rolls, to sunrise,
Till the end takes its toll.