The One Who Would Be King

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Stargazer

Seeker of ageless wisdom

Earthbound spirit of potential majesty

Oppressed by only the failure to understand

Finally set free to ponder

Newfound belief

Uncaged

 

Awakened to a new universe of discovery

Immersed in limitless potential

Awestruck by it’s clarity

Crystalline

Simplicity defines bliss

A singular path to perfect awareness

Unfamiliar soil to acknowledge and appreciate

 

Nobility

Respect in abundance

Reverence to Gods and Goddesses alike

Stand aside; Make way for the One who would be King

Behold unassuming dignity and substance  

Borne of sheer gratitude

Freedom

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Blood Red

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A path gets dark and twisty in the deepest wood

Easy to forget not to stray from an overgrown path

When the rain comes down it’s time to don your hood

Beware the dangers of a forest filled with fury and wrath

 

Stay on course and hastily make your way

With a purpose in mind and a goal to achieve

Un-frightened by ominous sounds of the day

Oblivious to peril inside a land of make believe

 

A coarse growl penetrates the mist and rain

A guttural noise that would bring a chill to the bone

An ageless cacophony only resembling torturous pain

Sacrificial feast to be made of a lost soul found all alone

 

Confrontation of the seemingly naïve and innocent

Not a care in the world under fragility of trusting youth

Apparently without knowledge of the outcome imminent

Literally a “Babe in the woods” unprepared for nail and tooth

 

A simple task conveyed; a thoughtful visitation the mission

On this bleak and dreary, wet and treacherous morning

To continue onward, safe passage required permission

Unready for anything resembling conflict without warning

 

What would Grandmother say about this gruesome scene?

When hackles were raised and razor sharp teeth were bared

Flesh ripped from bone and the mist obtained a scarlet sheen

After the events were relayed, Grandmother only declared…

 

Sakes alive my little Red

That poor, poor wolf

He never had a chance.

Meant To Be

 

breaking-down-walls

Times get tough and the obstructions go up

So hard not to be stopped by life’s blockades

Letting the bricks stack for far too long

While the optimism of the sun slowly fades

 

Icarus’s wings will surely melt away

If the white heat of hesitation exists

We must do all that we can to sustain

Ensuring every ounce of enthusiasm persists

 

Reaching new heights only to have wings clipped

Would be the very definition of catastrophe

A majestic bird of prey is awe inspiring to behold

Until it suffers the loss of ability to fly free

 

Fear not the height of the wall or heat of the sun

Take strides confidently in a new direction

See to it that walls of self doubt come crashing down

In order to observe the sun ascend on perfection

 

Look to the sky and prepare to take flight

As nothing outshines the brilliance of your destiny

Do not look back to what once kept you caged

Focus only on what was always meant to be

Pulse

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A solitary heart led so far astray

For which a singular beat resides

Persistent within it’s individual confines

Rock steadily pulsing as time ticks away

 

There is no depth to a choir of one

A melancholy song sees harmony unrealized

Yet bring this heart the rhythm of another

And listen to tightly bound miracles come undone

 

Spontaneous symphonies composed in midair

The backbeat of previously broken hearts provide power

To an orchestra of undiscovered and exhilarating dreams

Fantasies of wild imagination that we both will share

 

Heavy rain brings the sound of cymbals crash; frightening

Rolling thunder provided by the sound of uncertainty

Fear of the unknown exists only to be conquered

Our path illuminated by bright flashes of lightning

 

So this solitary heart once led so far astray

Now united with it’s long absent rhythmic double

Symphonic duality tightly woven in it’s intricacy

Two hearts, one pulse; perfect in every way

Night Light

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Is there anything as terrifying

As an irrational fear of the dark?

Is that truly where the monsters play

And the Demons leave their mark?

 

Not just a frightened child’s torment

Or a figment of wild imagination

Never ever can it be honestly said

That this dread is of minds creation

 

Age or gender is of no consequence

When referring to matters of dark oblivion

For the creatures of the blackened realm

Exist within or without absolute obsidian

 

Truth be told they are always there

Needing not the shadows to hide inside

Free to roam under a midnight sky

Yet uncompelled to be nighttime’s bride

 

What you must understand as wholly true

Is that what lurks in obscurity just out of sight

Is not only the horror of what cannot be seen

But also thrives alongside us in the light

Machine Head

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Can you hear it?

Some would say it is the sound of progress

I beg to disagree

I hear it as nothing more than a dissonant cacophony

The gears turning

No more oil to be applied to the squeaky wheel

Begging for attention

It gets overlooked as the madness overwhelms

The clock ticks

As numerous cogs spin in a pointless frenzy

Inner compass dead

Cracked and crippled without clear direction

Pushing and pulling

One side not knowing the purpose of the other

Grinding and screeching

This is surely the sound of progress denied

Smokestacks billow

Thoughts of growth and development fuel the fire

Belly of the beast

Ravenous for our never ending pursuit of futility

Fed very well

By the rapidly declining machine head

Amethyst Vision

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Dreamscapes of vivid color and wild imagination

Never seem to linger long enough to be recalled

Weary of the countless questions called to thought

We grasp at straws for infinite answers unattained

 

Long sought after comfort and satisfaction

Comes never easily to the overburdened mind

Only when the urgency to understand subsides

Will the colors of our dreams inform and enlighten

 

 Arriving through untamed hues of brilliant clarity

 Resolutions that proved so elusive fall at our feet

Polished perceptions kept within our dreams

 Imparted with the energy of celestial perfection

 

True guidance is only given to those patient souls

That take the time to truly stop and quietly listen

So after all the noise inside our heads goes silent

Let us bathe in the warm colors of awareness

 

Amethyst truths and turquoise wisdom

Shall be the shades of newfound enlightenment

As we live out the remainder of our bountiful lives

May Archangel Jeremiel be our enduring guide

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