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FlowBeauty hath no other form
But that of the way of Grace.
Simple standing soundless,
Yet nature seeks its rapture
And revenge itself does torture our souls.
With beauty, I find you.
Created by solitude, our souls meet
By cosmic views of viscous light,
Torn down by dark fury
As nature deems us fit of Hell.
But stand not you here, with me.
My life sits by the cliff, and winds push
That landscape forward with motions of divine right,
As I freefall without time to make due my duty;
Bones break and breath halts
As a still image of my heart here with yours.
Sounds from fire bereave my loss.
Beauty hath escaped you, and
Nature has taken its way.
The cosmos speaks, and the world listens quietly.
Requiem of a Forgotten SoldierI bled tears of Grace, with wounded eyes of scars I did seek. Summer morning sun breaks dawn, and bread cracks with mealtime. We had our heads in the air like doves, peace-stung powers of sultry landscapes -- And like wings did we outstretch our arms, sounds of War ceasing on ground. Cold-stained air blew through our prides, and we saw ourselves as winged creatures, ashen and gray with passion for fury on our tongues. And so we march onward into new lands, like followers of forsaken unknown, driving back our senses, and shadowing our fear with glory. We will transcend, and flow as one like water through the sand. Behind us lies nothing, and as we march, we will live inside History, as names and ink. Hold your spirits, and find your steps- and let your blood flow like rock.
PioneersWe turned our eyes reluctantly toward God, and watched the sky as it filled with Grace. The atmosphere emptied us, and we saw ourselves skyward, falling with the nature of our being.
And we as ourselves; we flew like birds, born battling the ceaseless storm, flowing through streams of air as the fire consumes us.
Our thoughts gone as transiently as they came, we flutter on, without destination of travel, finding what we are, in question and thought, until we become vessels, surfacing our imagined realities.
Uncertain, we push on, heads against the wind, as pioneers.
What waters will we tread, and how strong will they flow above us - Always they will shape us. Always, we will.
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