The soul’s tread through Time’s Veneer Takes turns unending through places that were dear Circling like cobwebs soft as marsh And tapping toenails on rocks so harsh Dance in dreamworlds far and near Where old friends from memories appear Twirling in time-lost lover’s embrace Or standing still, while otherwise there’d be no trace For here is where the lost years are clear Like pages of a long-lost book, at which you peer And become again the child reader, fresh and new Touching pages heedless of the decades which separate you. You can come here heartily and without fear Or cross to dim places where you need armor and gear For as the years stretch and strain, becoming sparse Some pages are kind, some cruel, and others farce. Just know that whenever you cross, they are here And when to this dreamscape the music of memory may steer Dripping dewdrops dangle every face And form, and creature that time would erase.
Human Nationalists Part 1 Upon Departure Will you follow where we are led? Can your heart not be swallowed Hailing heroes of the dead With their lives they saw us fed Feasting in a world where life is yet allowed Will you follow where we are led? A trek to kneel and recall at a sea of red See here they whom reaper Time left unhallowed Hailing heroes of the dead. Though you would have fallen back and fled I walk a path my dreams have followed Will you follow where we are led? As we kneel, raise your breathing head Our greetings go out to the sorrowed Hailing heroes of the dead As they call to us from the books left unread Yet doused in yearning. Cowed. Will you follow where we are led? Hailing heroes of the dead? Part II Upon Return While you stood there did you see? Humans steeped in beliefs so dear They died before their dreams were free. Far flung defenders, never allowed to be In a land with home and loved ones near While you stood there did you see? How against the b
Look at the tear drenched face, The eyes worn out of their sockets By nights of pacing, fury, bitten nails; Look for the truth in that battered sorrow. Did love exist in those soft and tender words? Did the liar believe the lie? Or was it a trick, a malice etched upon the heart? When he pledged his love to her. Or was it as she now screams? A hidden agenda, born of cruelty and nursed by hope? Stemming from hatred, bathed by love? She cannot know. He is gone. The delusion came, the delusion left But truth slipped invisible into the night.
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