Poetry-Thing Thursday: Metamorphosis

Metamorphosis is a change,
one of greater range,
than shifted perspective or minor amendment.

It is the growth of one,
whom once graced by the sun,
finds peace in themselves and their surroundings.

It is the molting,
of a deep inner soul-thing,
and not to be taken without its grains of salt.

Ne’er to be avoided,
but reaped and rewarded,
is one with patience and agility.

When at last,
no longer the past,
plots and paths the future’s course,

Then Metamorphosis,
hath formed unbeatable forces,
of mind and heart and body.

Once cocooned,
those that it’s roomed,
fear reprisal and grace.

But on the other side,
flows a great tide,
that welcomes all with willing arms.

Fear not,
the change that you’ve got,
for it is nothing more,
than a metamorphosis,
soul-fire, that’s sore,
from long being hidden.

Find peace,
in release,
of burdens and fears,
then metamorphose,
all whom oppose those,
and return to life appeased.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: A Debt To Repay

Madness on your TV screen
looks of wrath so you scream.
Could have told you that I’d seen,
this nightmare’s no ordinary dream.

Time of man may have passed,
Our faith in ourselves lost at last,
I’ve no doubt we’ve been surpassed,
by those the furthest stars outcast.

Bombing runs and bloody nuns,
hunted beasts, corrupted priests,
I want three suns on my horizons,
or to flee from Earth’s at least.

This world was beauty, hued and bleak,
but now it is soiled, by those whom seek,
to deign an end that could never repeat,
our greatest achievements, in power’s seat.

Build a rocket, or at least a ship,
launch outward, but keep your whip,
on hand, at the ready,
to defend from the petty.

A sadness in that last assertion,
is that of one condition,
Man’s most notorious indiscretion,
to kill, or die by indecision.

So much of death I’ve spoken,
but missed the point, those I’ve awoken.
T’was ne’er to devalue life’s token,
but rather the opposite I meant you to soak in.

Life is a gift, love it’s wrapping,
death its unraveled, eponymous trapping.
You’ve only a single one that’s a-flashing
past your eyes then you’re crashing.

I’ve no more to say, ‘cept on this very day,
stop for a moment, and think of the way,
of the world and life that slowly decay,
and the debt you’ve left to repay:

You owe your existence to love and the world.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: A Horizon Ruined

A horizon ruined.
Fires ashen, blue and
red, white hot.

Nuclear winter,
snow-blackened cinder,
burns the souls of the not.

Man’s insanity,
manifests before me,
guns and bombs scream at their treat.

Overhead
birds of the dead,
prey upon the willing defeat.

No more air,
Earth’s frayed hair,
both decayed in madness.

And so I sit,
struggling with it,
for all I know is sadness.

What I have seen,
A thought only gleaned,
wolves in sheep’s clothing.

A literal moment,
atomic component,
>and with no foreboding.

A feeling was rushed,
by someone whom crushed,
a button without thought.

Now we are doomed,
forever entombed,
by what a few’s greed sought.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Ensouls the Wraith

Out to pasture,
these weary eyes.
No more a master,
of bidden disguise.

When of fate we think,
or the fruit of Knowledge seek,
to satiate or drink,
we recognize the meek.

Inherit wisdom,
a fist to raise when,
enthralled by freedom,
controlled by a wasteful then.

Violence abhorred,
a beast unbidden,
peace had soared,
but never been ridden.

Masks of faith,
unruly with hate,
ensouls the wraith,
whom did the dove, decapitate.

Mongering fear,
missing their prophet,
a silent tear,
they’ve all but forgot it.

Should history again come to pass,
know you are not the last,
to shed grief from Man’s outcast.
You’ve only the Earth as your lass.