What of it at the end remains
one bucket in the pouring rain
Some things we simply can’t contain
and yet we dare to try
on wings that shall not fly
A fire that will burn with rage
shall fade in time but spread with age
For as the minutes know
the wind shall make it so
Oh butterfly so fresh and new
remember still from whence you grew
The Earth that knew you then
shall know you once again
What of it at the end shall be
why care at all soon you will see
For now is just one chime
upon the hands of time
One meager step beyond the crawl
that swings the doors beyond these walls
Where freedom lays in wait
and so too tarries fate
As caution hits the window pane
each crack shall know both sun and rain
but when these marvels sting
what then of everything
When anger is the stench of air
devoid of love, respect and care
Then every breath shall take you there
the blight of misery’s season
but then, you have your reason.
Deo Volente
February 28, 2011
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