Let the flames dance wild
they bite those who interrupt
but warm those who watch

Even the smallest
rivers can wear down mountains
given persistence

Defying the wind
is simple, until faced
with a hurricane

Free Verse

You can hear a whirring and whizzing
from the clockwork inside
to keep it ticking and tocking in time.
The monotonous tone
is a sad metronome,
at least when you heed it alone.
Clock hands and clock face
let us watch the time race
but where to and where from are unknown.

A great many fear the dark
because it shifts and warps
and obscures all in its midst.
But it needn't have been so.
Darkness is an abstraction
and having a name gives it power.
Were 'darkness' a word no longer
a child staring out into the night
wouldn't see a terrible black curtain
offering sanctuary to every manner of monster imagined.
Instead, he might simply take note
of a place where the light failed to reach.

The End is Nigh
I was a sophomore at the time.
Being crushed by the unbalanced weight of classed
where it seemed like the work would never cease.
I remember a student mentioning the Mayans,
and their predictions of the end.
"Let it come", I smirked.
It was a month away, and distance fosters courage
As the date drew near I found myself apprehensive.
Not panicked, or even really worried,
but part of me wondered if some great thing
would soon come to pass.
As the date grew ever closer
the feeling of suspense mounted,

And then came winter break.

My next thoughts on the matter
occurred some time in winter quarter
with the hazy recollection
that a few weeks past
the world was supposed to end.


You twirl the leaves
about my feet,
Shattering silence,
and banishing heat.
You are the whisper of angels
chanting a prayer.
You are the breath of God
and the music of air.

Angels in Breach
We control the air
beneath this bloodied sky.
In a forlorn place where only
the fallen angels fly.
And when the last day dawns
we who are forsworn
will have the crimson flames of hell
to eternal keep us warm.

What Remains
Bring on the thunder,
bring on the rain.
The the bright skies cloud over
until no blue remains.
Let the wind howl out
its sad solemn song
as an unsettling reminder
of all the things now long gone.
Raise up the oceans
to flood over the land,
let this world come to ruin,
I have just one demand.
If you take all warmth away,
at least leave us the cold.
If you strike down the timid,
promise you shan't harm the bold.
Let us learn from experience
if we can no longer be taught.
I won't despair at that which you've taken,
I'll rejoice at that which you have not.


Elegy of Altitude
Rest yourself, flier mine,
and while your weariness away.
Close those tired eyes and sleep
until the breaking of the day.
Morning is heralded by blue sky,
and the afternoon a golden red,
but now the heavens are dyed in darker hues
so it's time to rest your head.
Lullay, daytime flier.
Rest now, sky-bound one.
Dream not of storms or headwinds,
but of fair skies and the sun.
You need not worry even when you've strayed
so very far from home
for even in your darkest dreams
you'll never fly alone.

Pilgrim's Pledge
That there's nothing more worth seeing
than that which has not been seen before
is something I'll be certain to remember
when I take my next steps out the door.
I vow to take only roads less travelled
and stray far from the beaten path.
Should my vagrancy be my undoing,
it'll make a decent epitaph.
Homesickness shall serve as a reminder
of how far my steps can reach.
I'll find places only known in stories
and learn many things that one can't teach.
Home cannot be my destination,
for my goal shall always lie ahead.
I know better than to long for rest,
for I'll have plenty when I'm dead.
I will submit myself to fortune
however it may twist or bend.
I will continue to press onward
until I reach my journey's end.

The pale light cast by the moon
and the softly shining stars
are things that belong to us alone,
for the Witching Hour's ours.
Although the air grows chill at night
so long as we're near you won't freeze,
and should you listen for the secrets of the night
our names are whispered on the breeze.
We dance the midnight mambo
beneath a sky lost to the sun
because only we can complete the steps
before the clock strikes one.
We ward of hellions and nightmares
Just beyond the boundaries of your sight,
because it's for the best you get your rest
before you greet the morning light.
We are the first and last line of defense
in this most clandestine war
and we are the one whom you ought to thank
when you're unsure just what you're thankful for.

Starting Line Heroes
We take our places, the gun goes off,
we surge to seize the lead.
We owe it all to dedication
(except the part we owe to speed).
They call us starting line heroes
because we set a brutal pace.
Even if we can never quite maintain it
for the remainder of the race.
It isn't something we can help,
there's no way to work around,
this drive to always run so hard
we run ourselves into the ground.

Come with me, in our dreams we'll dance
a two-step to tamper time.
The steps, once done, will still the sun
in its journey across the sky.
Oh, when the sun descends we'll see our friends
and we can laugh, and love, and lie.
Oh, when the sun descends we'll be together again,
and then time can pass us by.
A swift waltz step (while unique in concept),
serves only to slow things to a grind.
The foxtrot will maybe your dreams fulfill
if you seek the power to rewind.
Oh, when the sun descends we'll see our friends
and we can laugh, and love, and lie.
Oh, when the sun descends we'll be together again,
and then time can pass us by.
But the tango's grace, to make time race,
is the greatest without a doubt,
because it's the only way in the world to see
what happens when time's run out.
Oh, when the sun descends our long lost friends
aren't so lost, by and by.
Oh, I contend that I'd rather spend
time with those whom time passed by.