Across the whitewater way,
Through thick velvet night,
Watch for me at the bay,
Beyond the world's spite.
Remember what we were,
Hope for what we can be.
So again we will be pure,
Wait upon the shore for me.
When the seastorm closes in,
When the oceans spit fire,
Remember that the greatest sin
Is to believe that all is dire.
Should my guide birds fly north into bleak winter's cold,
Or south to greet the red summer flame,
Look to what our hearts still hold,
And remember what we became.
YOU ARE READING
Things That Go Rhyme in the Night
PoetryHerein lies what is, in my humble opinion, the most deeply meaningful poetry I've written, whether it's meaningful only to me or to everyone else as well. Some is epic, some is angsty, some (okay, maybe more than some) is childish. Enjoy! (Cover mad...
