Silence...
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
