I could cry that you are gone,
or be filled with joy because you lived.
My heart could be broken because I can't see you again,
It doesn't have to make sense,
Its the flower of light in the field of darkness.
It gives the strength to carry on.
I don't move by sight...
Drake was right
That we all did start from the bottom.
We build our lives from ground to the top.
We toil and we survive the odds
It is a life of struggle and strife.
Even the seer screams of cosmic mischief.
Peace once thrived on this land.
Now perverted by violence and death.
When shall the Patriots rise
For the Heroes days as of the Prophets is long stale.
The eagle's wings are clipped
The horses speed has slowed.
Blitz the heaven's gates unhinged.
Rush the green streets with fearsome fairness
Flood the gray fray with mystical poison.
Plunder the Pandora from the blazing paws of three.
Like the first yellow sun in the morning sky
The first wave kissing the longing coast lines
Your majestic gait lulled my heart.
Like a breathless awe lilting a restless soul
Look into my lustful countenance
As I fantasize about our imaginary love
Your eyes are a constellation.
Kiss locked and thighs entangled
The powers threw the village in peech darkness
Just as I thought the ancestral God's might pitty.
But the enchanted clouds rumbled their brag
And the dreaded thunder clapping his disdain
It is a bundle of joy
In an ocean of healing lights
And sweet scenting presence
Of smiling angels in blue feathers.