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.