spring is in the air
toads croaking
now the bees
have woken up
setting sun
pink hillside
showing through
my grey hair
bamboo shoots
spring is in the air
toads croaking
now the bees
have woken up
setting sun
pink hillside
showing through
my grey hair
bamboo shoots
a name on a card
as we danced
a feeling of wanting
kept us close
our hearts beat
to the applause
the past remains
to preserve the present
their armies rest
while we toil
because if the outcome reversed
then we would be the ones
marching to our death
and they would be the ones
to meet us
one final destination
an Island
only the dead know the way
but the living wish to visit
so that they can see
the final resting place
of their ancestors
and pay respect
but when they set sail
they found they could not return
because they too
had already paid their debt
Here once stood a temple
the columns are all that remain
of an idea
that changes
the more people see it
and when they invade your dreams
to control your future
all you can see
is the ruins
of your past
they came
to consume each other
and their form took shape
to reveal their true intentions
turning to face me
had fear not been my ally
their gaze
would have consumed me
when they move
through the scorching sun
to catch a prey
that cannot see them
because they make no noise
and cast no shadow
woven in
to their web of sin
a string of hope
that leads
to them
picking the bones clean
what is left
are the remains
of a victim
unable to save himself
perplexed by her beauty
her soft lips and striking eyes
the way she twirls her hair
her voice soft but authoritative
her perfume sweet like ambrosia
holding court by your side