The World In Awe Minor

After dusk,
In the middle of the night,
men catch lovely Persian butterflies in ancient Persia;
They perch quietly in the palms of unfamiliar hands;
Their majestic colour is hypnotizing,
Though I wish I could smash the jars that keep them.


The soul of Moses still walks just behind God,
Though he murdered a living-man.


A lovely Grandmother’s lilies seeded few fools;
The roses in her garden were her pride;
Though with all her heart, she pruned painful thorns to no avail;
Those that wilted still got care.


As you slumber, can you feel the wrinkles of that soft warm hand?
The eyes of angels peer upon the world;
And on their wings rests a long-awaited kiss.
We’ll meet again.


Visionaries that lift veils are the wisest of sages.
Life without judgment is a fleeting wish;
Reputations ripple through time.


Bedrock principles built on a shaky tectonic morality,
Cast gray shadows on immoral actions.


There’s a mote in my eye,
And wool over yours,
But that don’t mean there’s no truth.


In blue, a period of sorrow mourns for red;
A river blesses terrestrial lands with green hopes;
Just as new wedding dresses are sewed in light cream fabric;
Do you ever miss a white Christmas?


Grief is not inconsolable;
Familiarity is a comforting friend with suspicious motives,
Weathered rocks may still have jagged edges that slice the soul.
Solace in repetition can be dangerous;
We live our lives on themes.


Justice antagonizes the messy business of its pursuit;
The East reflected light to dark ages,
Gusts from the Westerlies now blow progress in all spheres.
Peasants watch anxiously to see where the floating leaf will fall.


At birth, a baby is everyone’s child;
Wide eyes have faith in hopeful optimisms
The aged marvel at innocence in a teary longing for their own;
In children we’re all still in awe.