Dreams are those of humankind,
To display the fears within the mind.
Dark visions within the mist,
Pounding your skull like an iron fist.
Fingers grip an untold pain,
As the dreams turn your mind insane.
White rooms and hellish screams,
Blood flowing from padded beams.
To form the words you often find,
Within the child’s darkened mind.
My Failing Willow Tree
Oh my failing willow tree,
Why have you given up hope me?
For all these years I have held you well,
And now I have to see you dwell,
Like a mother over her sick child,
And I see you hang limp, till you breathe your last breath,
Where the earth bewails over your Death. . .
Then when you have perished,
And your lack of hope has eaten you away,
There will be Hope.
For a new life of you will sprout,
And the harmony of you will outstretch,
Touching the sky, the sun,
And your long leaves calling to the soft soil,
For a new breath to call, and breathe. . .
For a warm heart again beat,
And through your flesh,
Will run your lively spirit,
And you will hold strong in midst,
Of the Hope of thy Willow Tree.
There is time to say all that should be said.
There is never enough time to do everything.
Time is precious and scarce.
It only leaves me with the fear that I will run out of it.
Will I have the chance to say it all?
I love you, you are beautiful.
My latest desires consists of you.
May we one day dance together.
Only time will give us the chance of forever.