These eyes
Coffee stained,
Often sweet, often warm.
A facade, but a lie,
 Never breaking, never shy,
“Smile brightly” and conceal
              A dim light beneath.
A flawless mask, held tightly,
So protected, it never weeps.

Ever being, ever knowing, ever seeing the truth,
Searching souls, through these eyes,
Will these eyes, be searched too?
To hear a pleading voice of courage,
Scream refuge, scream truth!
Will somebody ever get it, or are they just as blue?

These eyes are a window,
A looking glass to the soul,
Shares company with a friend,
Despite feeling so cold.

Can you see it? Really see it?
The light shining there,
Ignore the little draft,
The coldness, you’ll bear.

A facade, but a lie,
Often sweet, often warm.
Coffee stained,
These eyes.
These eyes are mine. 

I've always wondered. A little thought pondering on the corners of my imagination. Whether life seemed to echo – loud - a violent call, bracing ourselves to the railings of existence.

Or, whether life fell flat. A deep, empty, nothingness without meaning, diluted and minimal.

----

If I grazed upon the edges of my subconsciousness, the vivid lights, adorning the imagination, would I see it? The answer to these fathomless questions, queer and profound.

Were I to leave it alone, wandering, still pondering on the corners of my imagination, would I see it?
The answers to these fathomless questions, queer and profound.

---

A deafening beat, staggers and sways. Enduring the burdening hardships of time. Only to be called a heart, a ship, a rock – dispatching the notion of a wrongful age.  

Pardon me a token of a cry from a hundred. Through sealed lips, do ye hear, the cry from a hundred?

And so I've wondered. What leads a thought to another, extending the imagination to the depths of the universe. Is it a lie, being told, through the system big and old?

Or the truth, oh the truth, how it pains me to know.

--

To cross the abandonment of hope,
Ye seek no help,
Seek no cry,
Seek no truth.

But the encompassing darkness of laughter, sneers and quivers of mockery.

-

I still wonder, yet I know not, for the light has time to shine, and the answering darkness is unrelenting.

A man of wealth stands upright from a million,
Like a star stunningly lit from the clouds of a dawning day,
Never falls from where he reigns,
Deafly blind to the world around him,
Never falling from where he reigns.

From the shadows awakens the treading steps of a broken sprawl,
Bent in a burdening lost for survival,
He sings to the hearts around him,
A vagabond dancing along the streets,
Hope is he that holds the hearts of a thousand men,
He is the undying faith.

The sun speaks to the ones, who listen,
Yet listening is hard to the man of wealth,
In love with things that ceased to exist,
Acquiring treasures to augment his depress.

A skip, a hop, a twirl with the world,
One vagabond sees the world through the eyes of child,
So innocent, so diligent – with a plan for the now,
His skin so fibrous against the rags in which he facades,
His world is the token of pride,
Yet humility is what he strides.

Lightening.
A time of acknowledgment,
The heavens proclaiming a loud awakening upon the imperfect grounds of the Earth,
God speaks unto man,and calls us forward to bow down humbly,
All is quiet, no voice is spoken, all is in a wondering fear.
Taking in the glorious magnificence of the Lord.

The vigorous sound that shakes this earth,
That shakes the person within you.

You quiver and watch as the voice breaks through the sky, emotions seeking through your deeper skin.
Too much to keep in, too much to keep out.

This is the moment of the Lord,
The moment of praise. The time of worship.
Where the world is forced to stop,and watch.
To listen for the coming time, to listen for an empowering voice to speak and bring upon fire and brimstone.

This is the time of acknowledgment.