ZadenWillowfyre

Smoke billows in tangled tendrils The slimline fumarole glows blood red Atop a terraced watchtower An angelic bowman stands his guard Nose briefly wrinkled in dislike As a quarreling clamor fills the air This fissure in the planet's core This new entrance to the Gates of Hell Filled the bowman with great unease This desolation feels familiar... Remains of a careless people Who had long ago fled from this world Leaving behind the laggard few The gaudiness of their existence Had assured this planet's slow death The Excavator had since arrived His job to complete The Cycle But those left had formed a Resistance Fueled by their misdirected ra

Happiness is hard... When we crave capitalism Over creativity When we feast on what feeds our bank account Over that which feeds our soul Happiness hurts... When we trust in stale traditions And not in true love When we see the shades of colored skin And not the content of our hearts Happiness is harrowing... When we lend dogmas and ideologies Instead of lending a helping hand When we joyfully pass along our judgment Instead of passing along our joy Happiness is hollow... When it's devalued and defaced And not celebrated and embraced   Just because it's seen through a screen     Of forced smiles and inner screams     Depression,

An exuviation of cells A billion tiny universes That journey every day Some drifting with the winds Others settling in soil and water Each carrying an essence Full of intent and purpose Loves Fears Dreams Thoughts Hopes Losses All fading Melding into one An evanescence of life Traces of DNA Nourishing the earth Coalescing in mirroring seas Altering all they touch

I prefer the chiming of bells To the chiming of cash registers I prefer gift wrapping myself in love To the wrapping of material things I prefer throwing open my doors To tearing open presents I prefer counting what I can give To counting what I've received For what brings me around the tree Is laughter and joy And badly sung carols Family and friends And the spirit of Saint Nick The true reasons for the Season When simple things seem significant And the world shines a little brighter

Serendipity of finding love Unpredictability of each moment Rich beauty of my faults Pain of loss and failure Reaching a goal that seems unobtainable Inspiration in unlikely places Starting over once again Emptiness of infertility

In Autumn... A time of change Where all things fall To a beautiful death To be reborn again A Maiden... Heart sure, yet hands trembling Lightly steps towards her Prince To die a beautiful death As they are reborn again Oh Autumn... Adorned in rich earthy shades Of auburns, golds, and greens And leaves which sweep the ground Or drift upon the wind Oh maiden... Adorned in white And the Prince in deepest blues Her dress sweeps the footbridge That leads her into his arm Bear witness all creation And too all kith and kin For as life death are wed each year In the changing of leaves The gathering of the harvest The crackling warmth of fire And th

Some gifts are of the richest gold While others are invaluable Some gifts are given freely While others carry a heavy burden Some gifts are second nature While others must be mastered Some gifts are ours alone While others must be shared Some gifts are for a purpose While others simply are But the truest gifts are intangible That which we carry in our souls Memories that remain with us forever And the greatest gifts we're given Are the little moments in life Where we give of ourselves

Under glittering white blankets All of nature sleeps frozen Lulled by the hushed caroling of falling snow The faint toll of creaking ice The rustling sighs of evergreens Mother Moon watches at her peak In the darkness Her wisdom guides She stands vigil on this longest night Waiting for the morning light Anticipating the suns rebirth And on this Winter Solstice The Earth be now at peace

Lady Fortune smiles a villainous grin An alluring and sultry simper Full of jagged broken promises Now rotting, black, and vile Through Her smile She whispers honeyed hope To mask the putrid breath of lies As She lures us ever closer And entices us to play So we roll the dice Chance the odds Place our bets Take the risk Nothing left Drunk on dreams and hope-mead We are oblivious to our losses And Lady Fortune beacons us to stay While She slyly steals our chips away Too late, we awaken from Her spell To taste the bitter truth Much fouler than the fiction Then with hazy eyes we gaze A heart of pitch no light could enter Lady Fortune's tr

Skin begins as a silken blank slate  A map yet to be written  A soft and supple story    Ready to be told Whispered in the subtle language  Of countless sun kissed freckles  Hands of leathered calluses    And each tattoo and scar As the tale unfolds through wrinkles  Each laugh line, and worry line  Every crease, ding, and dimple    Holds a secret past Significant and beautiful  For all skin's imperfections  Brought on by age and hardship    Are stories that we wear