The Rose

Inside every person is a rose
Ensconced on a shelf covered in glass
And every day the soul stops to gaze at it
To watch the petals as they fall one by one

Every day the soul gazing at that rose asks the same question
Am I a beast or a man?
Am I cruel and heartless or kind and full of love?
And every day that soul seeks a mirror they cannot find

I gaze at my own rose as the petals fall and wonder who I am
And I decide to ignore the rose with its ominous petals
I am not a beast, nor a rose covered in glass
I am only myself

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And So They March Along

And so they march, three in a row
following to, following fro
the umbrella takes the lead
and they bob their heads in time
in uniform, they march along
trying to find where the rest have gone
girls come from far and wide
to see their passage on the green
and so they march right off following their lead
and in forestlands to find the rest

Hunters of Antioch

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Antioch, glorious city of Roman rule
Six hundred years gone
But still, your huntsmen ply their trade

They roam through the fruit strewn forests
And hunt the wild beasts on the tiled floor
They know not that they have moved thousands of miles

No longer ensconced in Syria under the eyes of Zeus
Instead, they rest in a museum of art
Where they will forever rest under the eyes of man

Volcano

Sparks arch into the air
Fire in the sky
The ground is shaking
Not a star can be seen

A cloud of ash
The roaring sound
Magma coursing
People running in the streets

City on fire
The sky is aflame
Sails of ships struck through with holes
The harbor in chaos

A silent city
People walk the streets
Among ruins and murals of yore
Pompeii and Herculaneum

L’Havre de ForetĀ 

Haven in the Forest
The moon looking down, she watches

Bows are strung, armor donned

But these are not the soldiers

They are not made for war

Peace cries for them but they have only these trees
In the forest, they can live

Against the darkness, they will fight

From all corners, far and near

This place, their new home

A beacon, a bastion
Hope