Mother of yesterday is not the world of today
so materialistic it has become, while the mother
silently lowers her head in disappointment and pain, and wonders in her solitude, why all
hearts have turned toward the dark side in
the caverns of destruction.
No warmth can radiate from the darkness
flirting with black tunnels, laced in diamonds
without light, bringing them sparkling to the
surface, of earthly boundaries of truth, playing
tricks in righteous ways, to hide away the
darkness of surprise and awareness, while light
will bring forth honey and promise of surreal
delight and grace.
Sound of silence has a tone all her own, a
heartbeat, a tear, a warmth that only those
her hear her feel, a glorious hallelujah inside
hidden away, from the world of unwanted deeds
lacking illusions of dream swept flaws, of denied
assumptions of yesterday's waste away and lost.
Temperamental emotions casting toward another
lost world of recreational defense, gathering a spark
from a soul of light, and one glance of hope that
goodness will calm the savage beast that lurks
within the darkness of us all.
