Tor Magnor Solvang

The stars are scattered, dust of light,
Across a velvet, endless night.
A universe so vast and deep,
Where secrets sleep, and planets keep
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A whispered word, on Patmos' shore,
John saw a King, forevermore.

Not just a past, a story told,
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Sixty-six stories, a river so wide,
One message whispers, deep inside.

From Eden's dawn to Heaven's bright door,
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Alone in the wild, forty days long,
No friendly face, no comforting song.
Just sand and sky, and whispers within,
A battle fought, where shadows begin.
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Life, a winding, wondrous road,
Where sunshine dances, shadows load.
A mystery woven, thread by thread,
With joy and sorrow gently bled.
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Across the sea, a plan was made,
A 'Board of Peace, ' a path displayed.
America called, a hand outstretched,
To lands of cold, a plan to sketch.
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Kant, a thinker, wise and deep,
From Germany, his thoughts did creep.
He asked, 'How can we know what's true? '
And what is right for me and you?
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Sun wakes up, a sleepy gold,
Another day, a story told.
The path ahead, a misty gray,
We take a step and start the day.
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A star's soft gleam, a world anew,
Where skies are strange, and dreams come true.

Not dust and rock, but signs so clear,
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The bull's head lowers, strong and fast,
Don't walk in front, your chance is past.

The horse's heels, a sudden kick,
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Love's true garden, cannot bloom,
While shadows linger in the room.
Darkness hides where trust once lay,
Chasing sunlight far away.
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The highest seat, a heavy crown,
Can fall, if trust is broken down.
Article Two, Section Four, it says,
For the President, in measured ways.
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Soft steps are good, when shadows creep,
When danger hides, in slumber deep.
Walk softly then, and hold your breath,
Avoid the clash, and dance with death.
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A tweet from the past, brought back to light,
Charlie Kirk's words, in black and white.
Not for deer in woods, nor fear at night,
The Second Amendment, in his own sight.
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The table's set, a game of greed,
With 'sane' leaders, planting seed.
Of empires built on borrowed land,
A monopoly held in shaky hand.
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Across the lands, the People prayed,
To spirits strong, a world they made.
For hunts to thrive and harvests bloom,
To push back dark and banish gloom.
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A legend whispers, soft and low,
Of life's last journey, where souls go.
A bridge of light, to skies so bright,
A path to Heaven, shining light.
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A well runs deep, unknown before,
A Power wakes, and asks for more.
Not strength of self, but something vast,
A helping hand that's built to last.
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A tiny hand, a brand new start,
Life's story etched within the heart.
From gentle steps to stumbling falls,
Each rise and dip within these walls.
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A nation's heart, a gentle guide,
Is seen in how the young reside.
Do little hands reach out to play?
Are sunshine smiles found every day?
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