Sweet Sorrow of the SeasonsA flower begins to wilt.
The people did not decide to pick it or pot it.
The bees and butterflies have abandoned it.
Its potential lost without being built.
To work so hard with no return.
To strive but can only yearn.
What was the sun and rain worth,
If I just become one again with the dirt?
The trees become red with rage of the season's change.
Why shouldn't the sun shine on me, a tree?
I gave more than just loyalty!
The snow begins to fall upon the land.
The little crystals fall upon the tree's wooden hand.
When the sun returns, it will see.
I will become the strongest of the trees.
The sun rises in the distance.
It warmth melts the snow despite its resistance.
Despite the sun's lacking existence,
New growth springs forth with persistence.
With spring returns the butterflies and the bees.
The tree stands tall ready to grow new leaves.
I look forward to what I might achieve.
Alas, I am but a tree.
Song of CeciliaI provide sound to life, I illustrate its colors.
You and I hold a paintbrush to a canvas one and the same.
We all play a single melody, pure and true, that resonates like none else.
My song evokes for your attention,
shall I share with you my dimension
The sun shines so far away but near enough to see.
The moon was once that far away but was one day reached.
Long ago wanderers stood under liberty with dreams unyielding,
Are we so different from them today, what of our dreams?
We are the ones - we inherited their dream.
We yearn to transform our world,
To work hard and succeed.
Each day is a new voyage across time,
Choose the destination, make your own destiny.
Shall I visit Neptune, or perchance the moon Europa?
Our song radiates adventure, every note has power.
Choose your notes wisely, transcend all expectations.
Will you find the courage to begin anew if all ends in failure?
Throughout time and across the universe,
Paint with colors that ring true,
War for Juvelene - Chapter 6The horse sprung into a gallop beneath me. I clasped my arms tightly around Lynessa’s shoulders. The springtime trees with their sweet smell blurred around me. I hoped we would not defile the forest with any bloodshed.
He had his arms fastened around me. It seemed almost ironic. There had been many occurrences in which I had done the same thing with Duayne. Together we explored the labyrinth of trees around the castle and had pretend sword fights in the far reaches of the trees.
I had many memories of trees and sword fights. Lynessa would never allow me to win easily. We always began by bowing, unsheathing our swords, arched and stood at the ready.
And then I’d say, “Though our battles be many..”
“May the true swordsman win..” she’d respond. And with our eyes completely focused on one another, clash, our s