For all those who died -
Many thousands more tried,
Standing on the edge; A void
of colour and light
To step back into bleak & grey
To live yet another day
Of futility and fight.
If music is in silence -
Rythm is in form,
Melodies are made of color &
Moods dance in shadows of light.
Snail atop a high wall
Conquest of its Everest?
A flick, it flies down.
Dark night, crickets cry
Stars circle silently,
Some fall down, becoming fireflies.
A tall swing sways
Between high palms,
An old woman swings
Singing wavery psalms.
