The Prospect

Having what’s left

Of time, bereft

Of time, incomplete

Reminiscent of defeat

With music and wine

Would I decline

Transparent eyes

Seeing all the skies

And more, beyond

The infinite, a bond

Twix reality and god

Giving miracles the nod

Or might I still repose

As though were one who knows

The secret of tomorrow

That comes is nought, or sorrow

So, as clocks do tick

And limpets stick

Inevitable is the dark

Then make thee thus an ark

Securing all from being

For futures’ interest seeing

And rest a while, or sleep

The prospect is so deep

©HeyHey 2014

Days

Some days are rose coloured spectacle days

Some are blindfold days

And some are not days at all

But rather, are more than even the supermind can describe

More like a daze

A haze

A maze.

This is one of those days

Don’t ask which

For it could be any

A day to surpass other days

Yet still be a day

Without a way

So grey.

But not all days are grey

Some are violet

Others transparent

For days, like ice

Can be nice

Cold, like a device

Most are concise.

But, back to this day

A day that’s now night

With a moon hiding behind wasted time

A day that’s ending with blood

As it should

For the common good

Understood?

©HeyHey 2014