Playing the rhythms of the emerald grass
As it stretches toward the heavens,
I find my separate peace.
Slumped anxiously against the ivory windowsill, he warily peered out into today’s storm — yesterday’s storm — tomorrow’s storm, careful not to see too much — Not to see too much. Not to think too much. Not to say too much. Not…
I didn’t want to start a war
On the battlefield of love.
Cherished memories of a time before —
Whether ’tis nobler to finish the deed,
Whether ’tis nobler to set the soul free,
Whether ’tis better to do or to be,
Somber clouds engulfed the formerly cheerful sky,
Swirling slowly like ravenous birds of the night who,