Thoughts

Each crevice firmer than before A mere grip from more success Like spiders with their deaths in store, They tense to withstand less But on they move for spider lord, The instinct-driven beast Caught between the unexplored And a grand nostalgia feast It’s hope that stirs their soul To crest the unforgiving crags And bitter winds of things they stole That numbs and gnaws and nags Then of a sudden hands grow weak And fail the master’s will For what they find at top of peak Is another mountain still That victory still comes is sure For from the grip’s release Come hands that finally find their cure In death’s untroubled peace.

That deep’ning black expanse of night Looked deep into the soul of light The two sides formed for bitter row Cast time and age aside to fight As quick an archer drew his bow The ray that pierced from foe to foe Reflection streamed across the eye As men and beast fell both below All hordes then marched away to die While wond’ring whether, how, and why A class unknown in souls of men Spread down the fingers of the sky Spread down to try our hearts again To end those who had wondered when Lives foredetermined by the pen Their fates defended by his pen