Thomas Adams

So on to grey and misty sight.
The 'dare' to passers by.
Let us lightly sip the liquid night.
Pray, not sure fully, why? '
...

On young and restless heart imposed the 'carefull not to dream.'
A dream is just a dream. Another 'get in trouble thing.'
And why I held this thing so close, this task that I should bring.
For task is just a task without the gamble of a dream.
...

It is so destined, that such a 'Mentor' should and must be willing to make available to less fortunate, peaceful, sibling lands, all the knowledge and assistance that may pertain to freedom, that they themselves have acquired. And that peace is understood to be the resulting gift left over from any fight for freedom.
Through the grace of God, the willingness of men and countless souls lost, did a first nation obtain it's own wish to be unencumbered by the tyranny of another. And as this first nation
appears to be free through out the world, there will come others that wish to rest upon this lofty mantle. Others less fortunate, without the resources or assistance needed to fully understand the prospects and accomplishments of peace.
The hopes and dreams of any sibling land must not be dashed through the reservations of an unmindful benefactor.
...

Demanding all life's little things, indeed you've done without.
Now settle in your aches and pains, the mountain's climbed no doubt.
Through 'Trudge, ' the beast that wears upon, all aspects of you there.
Is shown how you of life are fond, and how you truely care.
...

I spoke of purple mountains and of amber grain that waves.
And hark, the ring of freedom down a costly road it paves.
...

I feel that when I'm at a place,
hear a tune or smell a smell.
The feeling that I've been before
is my moment in time to tell.
...

On the night that you were born, the air was calm and sweet.
The sun had set itself on down imposed it's feat, repeat.
Trees were browned and yellowed, fair, and leaves a flutter down.
And painted boldly all around, new carpets on the ground.
...

I've not the time to settle in when work is gone undone.
So much work afraid to say that carries me my ton.
And though the work is not all mine or left for me to do.
Still toil to finish up this work, hope I'd be seeing you.
...

When all day has set itself right back to sweet design,
and all the sounds that have me thin return to silent time;
I sit alone and listen for an answer to my prayer.
I'll peel away the after thoughts of layer after layer.
...

It's stronger than a thing should be, a resting place in flight.
And gathers all the strength it needs from shiny morning light.
Some older than the memory serves yet younger than it seems.
I even thought I heard some sing, but maybe those were dreams.
...

I did in fact just see him there. A whirling brilliant light.
And wove them snickered tales I've spun of wounds not healing right.
But I am settled in with me and all I may survey.
The truth from humbled men of God, did see their God today.
...

America's degeneracy is made continueous
Through her self appointment. She conscripts
Without regard, to risk each of her vested
Interests. Mean the while amassing truths
...

A rattle sound, the gurgling, a baby's what I hear.
Now time has snatched my baby; turned her tide I do declare.
Even now the face you sees a smiling broad and stout.
But just below the surface loud a Daddy's crying out.
...

If ever I should see this world as truely truely mine.
And all that stand upon her never cross my fighting line.
Please tap me on the shoulder and do point me really fast;
toward the notion that this world belongs to those who got here last.
...

Tantalized was I to see,
the setting of the sun.
Even though the temperature
was wildly on the run.
...

It has stolen the light of the night
for me to hint of its presence along my side.
Twisting and turning and gnashing.
Carving it's personality into path. It flees.
...

I have noticed a soft, pleasing glow that surrounds a true friend.
This dainty hue would to become brilliant and serve as a beacon,
amidst the tumultuous seas of life's tragedies.
...

The foundation of 'The Human Being' is poorly affixed atop a mountain we sadly refer to as 'Perpetual Fluctuation'. Our very history, be it short, has not experienced the heavenly shower that would rain love and affection on all of the people, all of the time. Nor tolerance of any that might be different or may possess something another has not.
...

The destinies of dep·ri·va·tion and con·tent·ment
are most assuredly intertwined. A man can never
truly delight in the providence of the one, without
experiencing at sometime, the particulars of the other.
...

It may not be left to those unchallenged by long,
wearisome histories of pursuit. It may never be
imagined still wanting for pathways forged and cleared
by any less than one billion tears; A gallant toll.
...