When I was a child I would run and play in puddles left in the hollow of the road.

As I got older I shunned the rain and wished for it only to go away.

Now older still, I stand once more in the rain,

Head tilted toward the sky

Just to feel sensation.

If only that we would stay our tongues
That slither round and upon
The words we never wanted to whisper.
Much can be left unsaid,

Broken
         thoughts
among        
a blizzard
                      And cast into
.lead.
.         .
  .                .
.                         .
Hindered by the fall.
We call into the gloom.
A hand reaching out beyond
That ashen white hue.
Too late she says,
You have had your say,
Your heart and mind
Have had their way.
Each day now lays cold
Whether due to winters weather
Or a chance lost to the storm,
Of which I'm none to sure.
I shall sip on silence
And guard my tongue,
For now and ever more.

These halls seem somewhat hollow,
Whose walls once knelled with
Wit, charm and sorrow.
The silence erodes the keystones' arch
Subdued subjects that once did sing
Depart.

That ancient bell tied to towers steeple,
No longer speaks for the wants
And needs of it's people.
For no man, woman or child
Could be found and riled
To hold fast and grasp the rope.
Hold firm and ring the bells of hope.

The sound of truth cuts fine.
Old lies no longer aloof.
When smoke does rise
From thatched houses roof,
We may live to see the proof attached,
Foundations subsiding.
Revolutions confiding
Inside the very stone itself.
Mortar fights Mortar
Till neither has health.
Candelabra arbitrates,
Fiery death from water.
The dual will slaughter us all.

It shall last till the hall can not past the moment of the present.
All its tenants cast out to the depths of mortal unrepentant.
A more pleasant alternative to uncertain death
May stray your way in an unwanted effigy
Cunningly disguised as yourself
As you drink to good health
Comfortably delved into the
Abode of bliss.
A delusional  apotheosis.

We know not what we are,
Only what we are called
And we have gone by many names.
Words define words,
People define people,
All is not seen nor heard.

I remember so much and yet so little of that day,
I remember the woods near our home where I would used to play.
The den I made, smothered by oak and fern,
The dragonflies sailing zephyrs and their power that I yearned.

I remember clearer the presence of my father,
Struggling through gaps he was far to large for,
His smile strangely absent that day.
I remember words he whispered
"come child, today we are away."

Those words mean little now
So much more than they did back then,
When my mind idled with dragonflies
Locked in that wooden den.

I remember seeing the earth
Looking still, if not serene.
Defiant in it's rotation.
As countless ships,
Starward monoliths
Depart with naive expectation.

Some decided to stay,
As some always do.
The rest sail for space in search of silent refuge.
Once more we forgot ourselves
Embracing our own  foolish divinity.
Forgetting the folly of our past
As it echoes unto infinity.

I remember once, now gazing at alien constellations,
The lines we drew in shale and sand to mark our different nations.
The pettiness we adored and the diplomacy we abhorred,
We burnt the earth behind us
And fled unto the stars.
The last thing I remember,
That day in late September,
The last solar systems' ember
Was the rusting glow of Mars.

I forgot how much I missed that home
Over the twelve cold years in space alone.
This place is not so bad,
But the trees weep strange,
Leaves drooped and sad.
From my window I see my grandson run
Chasing the shadows of new earth's twinned suns.
Fresh from the forrest
A new found den.
A second chance
Don't
Fail again.

Once when we were children,
We would run to here and there.
Across the hills of our homeland
With the wind in our fair hair.
The sun would shine
The rain would fall,
Never to hinder our play.
And all that could stop us
Was the call of our mothers
At the darkening of each day.

Sticks became our swords back then,
Keen of edge and shining bright.
The willow became our fortress
To defend until the night.
And when our foes were weeping
Once more we became the child.
Fast asleep we were sleeping
Imagination running wild.

We got that little bit older,
That ever bit more bolder.
Ambition came to soon.
We went to school
Were told what to do,
And all that we could be.
Some said 'Spaceman'
One 'Veterinarian'
The wise child said 'Happy'

"No No! You need a profession"
Seemed to be the moral of that lesson.
But the teacher didn't understand the question
That she asked.
For her days of dreaming
And childish scheming
Were lost in a distant past.