silence all around me.
The night air is cold as I stand quietly,
gazing up at the dark skies, tinted the color of November;
royal blue, the bare branches veins of spilled ink,
seeping into the black darkness.
A pure white moon rises; crisp stars shine bright.
I wrap my North Face coat tighter around me,
gazing heavenward, this cold, empty November night.
Empty, yes so full; the light of a plane, high in the sky.
I watch it, I wonder, "Where? Why?"
The silence is so deep, like this lingering thought, knowing you're there.
A whisper of wind begins to sigh, dead leaves rustle across the ground.
Is it my heart? What is this sad, lonely sound?
A Dragon; I see it in my mind's eye.
So fierce and brave... but I hear his cry.
What is this, Victory? You should not be proud. So young, so tender... stop! Stop following this surreal crowd!
Smile for me; I'm beginning to think it's starting to be genuine and true.
Don't follow suite; angel, be you.
Writer, close your tired eyes. Set aside your pen;
it will be there tomorrow; this chaos, all over again.
Go to sleep, try to rest.
You work so hard, doing your best.
Tomorrow, it will be the same; again, again you'll write for fame.
The sun is shining bright; today, the world will bring you another plight.
What will you do when your time comes, to stand, to say
What's right, and what's wrong?
So I stand here in the dark, so I whisper another prayer.
The glowing moon is shining bright,
the ink -it has spilled tonight...
with a sigh, one last glance, the quiet, soft voice:
Take Me There