Behind the Cloudy Skies

It gets better before it gets worse again.
The prophecies are spinning round the clock.
Birth into a blind destructive mood
that only death can bring into this life.

Finality, the nevermore.
We live and breathe in hope of so much more.
It never dared to show its face
amid the waste of dreams divine.
The rotting fruit is falling off the vine
as desperate seeds put down their roots in time.

They always hoped for reconstruction
of the lonely and the blind. Oblivious
to all the pain conceived. It never could be
one or two alone. Unpopular majorities
destroyed their loving ways. Out back,
the gentle branches start to sway.

The winds of time move over and move on.
The reasoned rhymes float on a stagnant pond.
The atmosphere is leaking into dark, eternal
realms of mystery. There never was a destiny
that couldn't be denied. Bloated minds
still seek the other side.

It gets better before it gets worse again.
The prophecies are spinning round the clock.
One misplaced dream and sleep will linger on.
Awakening is not a treasure spun into reality.
Transcendence bears its share of all the pain.
The sun will rise behind the cloudy skies
glowing ever in the eyes of man...

? Michaelette ?

4/19/2003
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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