Songs forgotten, bouncing round the perimeter of my mind. Places and faces gone to memory arrive as splendid reminder of life well lived. In Joy, pausing briefly to measure the gathering smiles upon cheeks so bright that August remained jealous. Dancing to the rhythm of prayers answered and the welling sounds of rumbling bellies full of promised wishes. Unfolding wings ruffled their feathers to call the faithful to homage.

Is she the one with the light of sun in her hair and eyes? What prizes freely given amount to the adoration of a humble child? In dreams the rooms seem larger than life, when reality reduces our sight to reason. Resist inclination to bother in argument. Only found in peace are the best aspects of respect and quiet. Never teetering on the precipice of unforgiveness or burden. Simply challenged by the best things to be found in good living.

Step away from the anger of the moment. Find your victories in the silence and great hope. Smiles of laughter and the promise of each moment. Shed for those things better than the fight. Unto reason surrendering in wisdom. Finding purpose in relinquishing the plight. Letting live what should never caused him purport. Give up that scepter and the crown that drives fury in your heart. Leaving the land of those with wanton vengeance. Remanded and replenished to be bringer and bearer of Light.

Almost there never stopped to think on Promise. Washed in hope a place that doubt could not become. Sword held high gleaming in the brightness of the morning. The flags it waves as soldiers march northward side by side. Our help is strong but not susceptible to moments. Nor will of pride the guide beyond our shame. It is this day for which we fight together. Hope in the morn when we shall receive our bride. To the wind I whisper of time borrowed, sold for the chance to battle one more night. Into the dawn we’re riding without murmur as armor stands against each assault even those inside.

They showed for vengeance. Stripped of fear and doubt they pushed a mighty throng up to the windows of evidence. In quiet moments the clouds breathed, drenching the deluge as summer took the stage. Inventing audacity the leaders seeking nothing good mounted crescendo. The surplus of ill will was palpable. Leaving a bitter residue of mounting displeasure for all to reckon.

In calculation the governor wept. Fear his only counsel, flight his only answer. Gone were the idle threats against overwhelming response to tyranny. For moments he took safety in a plan for escape to higher ground. Commercial trackers deployed the mercenary crew with allegiance to dollar pressed on before him to safety’s reach.

Slowed by obstacles unseen and misunderstood stimuli they flinched at the dark and light. No Quarter would be shown as the dams of repression were shattered and overrun by the wrath of those enslaved. Passions would not be repressed for good patience. the Lust of lives slighted and children wounded has overridden the quest to remain peaceful. They wanted heads, blood, money and destruction. Such is the will of mob pent man.

What was done this night would be regretfully celebrated for ages by those who sought justification in the demonstration of man’s frustration. What evolution they claimed champion would be lost in the actions of a scant resolve. Compassion absent as God stepped back to let men see the folly of their supremacy. Brute beasts speaking and delivering evil for evil when to rise above one must demonstrate restraint. These halls would forever be blackened by the fear, anger and spite of those who believed their own righteousness sufficient.

What then of mornings quiescence? What solemn resolve would heal the wounded plight? What moorings would tether the passions of those gone wandering to the still mountain of right action? There is no righted ship. No ground to be named or remain in holiness. Only the blood upon lip and teeth having been drained from grey matter overtaken by the emotions of man’s intent. For naught they sought good counsel in oracle. Who could only utter, “For shame”.

In my voice stepped away. So much to say on such a wintry day. As heroes breathe the smoke topped mountain shakes. Finding some dreams are too hard to face. And aspired morn to stop the night. As freedoms grasp retains the fight. All lost to gain all gathered at King’s Foot. Assembled for reason, rhyme and joy on sandy beach. As waves turn south the billows roll. Forming faces in the moonlight and wetting the pool of souls. No notes or sound just trembling ground, fooled by faces upon the wind. And in this forgiveness a burden paid. Stayed by quiet in the restless moon. All hope on red as paddle turns and sea spray intimidates the moss.

This brigand buy and treasure’s tossed. To land I say bring us that home be bound. Within hearts too curried and jaded by dreamer’s plight into the fray without words we write upon the charts of history’s charm. No fright or fear captive to courageous brand. In times gone too soon we found joy in memory of song. Our hearts gone limp by the rank of passions favored. My misgivings were never meant for sharing. My pressing lips reminder of the love we can never hold. For things born upon breeze must be carried hither hence. When quenched of fire’s frond charcoal upset cleansing wish. Blackened to all spite with no fancy dare or dance of merry Lord, our days measured by the humble Queen.

Valley’s oppression is lost when sight of sunlit sky meets mountains cast upon the founding of cloud and silk. To brazen eve we acquire temper and peace to speak with God. These are not the quests of mortals envisaged by acquisition and ambition’s lure. The pulls and draw of love and paint in scenery against a mortal’s imaginary keep. And dawn too close that chill do children shake. As plurality of purpose not shortened by the limitations of incandescent will. To the brink bring us pleasure. As we brave the territory beyond the impossible hope of man.

Her hope filled eyes and tear soaked face absorbed my attention defining time. Forever seen instantly upon the canvas of a woman’s heart. Knowing too much and feeling altogether more than the heart can justify. Answers to questions unanswered and yet to be asked. For the times are upon all. This day is not to be wasted as so many we left frozen. No growth or heart reserved, planting things to grow past the winter’s curving. In green and gold all things bordered leading to our plenty. And foundry’s fire emerges giving hope to sadness and sack cloth doubt. For our voices heard in the horses plodding hoof whisper of the end to fame, slavery and unrequited love.