jeweled tombs of once visionary eyes
that had lost fiery lightning and the moon,
withdrawn no supernatural
accomplishment,
as symbols of obscure hours
watched with a disdain for light
becoming soiled by the soul
with august sorrows,
mankind knew of many merciless rulers
who used terror as supreme power,
rebellion awakened from stubborn sleep,
imagination of those
seeing a future others had not
next morning would have many suggestions,
vanity would not nurse emotion
bullets would not be kissed by lips
that spoke of treacherous dreams,
music of voices spread over cities
and blue skied landscapes,
plans conceived with tears
and women taking widows veil,
television messages and distortion
vulgar external eyes
hands folded on lap
pretend subtle debate and interest
whilst buildings burn
assured rocks thrown
defiance not disguised,
all interior tragedies have those warriors
the fallen and fables,
but all endings are not the same
for that you have to wait
for winters grasp
velvetmedia 