Thirstyrover

So, tomorrow will be doomsday, but the world ended yesterday and today, just another day. There burns a dream. There burns a right to be or not to be does sing on the wind where another night pulls off a theft. A golden ring must only sing, for tomorrow calls and on and on. This a show cannot know of such joy nor woe for you see, those are mere human ties. The Earth lives a different way, turn as one whole, inhuman as it wheels so indifferent our world wills. A rock in a hand, a pebble among the vast sand, a blue dot without a demand. We live a short time and know small fragments of a far wider whole. The world will end but never fall, and to think we are in control is a hubris of Grecian wings. Man stood up and created Kings, but our world is not simple things.

Along this old road, bloom violets they seem like a funny flower made of twilight colors. What now? I stand off the side of the road, my car has broken down. Alone in a vast field, a single road cuts through. I traveled far and long over winding hills, down valleys, and through green dells. Across deserts into canyons, from coast to coast   to forests and flowers. Over mountains and plains, to rural towns and sprawling cities. Finally, it broke, my old car I knew well. Sure, I could fix it. Make it last a few hundred or a thousand miles more. I still have more to see, more places to go, but should I? The wind kicks up my hair and sweeps through the grasses, I just stand there   staring at my car. What now creeps into my heart? Despair? Sadness? Pain? No, it is like exhaustion. I could travel more, but I will never plant any roots. A ghost who passes through but is nothing in truth. Just an observer stuck on the sidelines without anyone to know or to hold. Maybe this is a sign my

"Keep it." A key? "Some key in looks." A key for what? "Will you not take it, gift I give and leave with you." But, what does it open? "A secret in truth and a game." Game, you say? Then tell me the rules. Games are no fun if you don't know. "The rules are simple, keep it as long as you can. From this life to the next." To lose? "Nothing." Nothing at all? "Well, then you chase."

Room of night, hear me scream alone.   You do not know of these rhymes for nothing can be told in time.   We linger in a space not felt, never real, yet we are dealt emotions that can only melt.   Here I am, name of youth, of old, here I am, too, liar in mold. Words in truth, but titles to hold and use, like those Greek masks once sold.   To stare at black mirrors of glass, where our thoughts and powers do pass into the reeds of networked grass. Hearts, but not all souls, mix in mass turned to faceless haunts of gas.   And now, these new artifacts live in death, not whole or true. Forgive this tool as man works to kill, drive their own to Death's own door. Deprive our bonds of warmth in hands, so give these monarchs of new their due. Thrive   in chains of nomadic life, rust will bind to soul and mind. For dust to dust, and all is crimes. No trust, no love. Isolation calls must be the future of this stardust and conducted lines. Such disgust when locked away and so unjust.

Sing to the wind with love. Bitter hearts curse it enough, and nothing can change it. Funny, a cool breeze is cherished more when lost in trees as the summer sunbeams. All green under canopies of leaves, true peace to be out in the outdoors. Gift to the soul not alone, let it all flow with the gentle wind. As they say, nature shows God's hand laid out for all to see. Wonder and joy as my feet walk this land of verdant green, so show me off to the sea. Yes, some hate the salt as it fills the air, falling wave after wave. What would the ocean be then, without its smell and sound? People are people, so alike on the surface and so alike within layers. Yet, so unique in the most surprising ways. One may love while the other hates. All seem to make their own path. I laugh and wonder, for to love nature seems to gift a most mindful soul.

"Look at the sheep!" She said, pulling me along with her little hand. It's days like this I lose letting time pull apart my mind in truth. "So fluffy, can I touch?" The awe, the wonder, smile I can't resist. Yet, when was this again? So free and young when love was new and then. "Llamas! Cute faces!" "Yes, " I respond, wanting to laugh, "very cute." At one point, you were it, my whole world. Now, I fear my memory. "Bunnies! Hop, hop! Fluffy." My, that smile you had when you held them close. To think years have now passed, so it fades, but I'll remember your face. "Can we go again?" "Yes." I'll always want to see that joy you have. And I did. For despite it all, the ups and downs, your joy kept on.

Morning dove, oh, fly into spring with love must my mind trick me so, to never know? What is that thing we care not say nor dare never dream to be alone? Only bones   of death fallen away do not see day break on heaven's mighty flame. All to take, yet never to give. Truly! Selfish blade stained with sorrow, a land burnt and fallow.   Sadness for a peace now shallow, gone off on wings that sing forever, hope that brings tomorrow. Please, do visit when the dawn awakes again, and feathers bend back   for home once more. Yes, that is my heart's lore, to watch with dreaming eyes as sorry lies burn and form. For what course will let me learn and grow into that destined want? So, show   me more! Both dark and light, frightful and good, life and death! Oh, carry me, dove of love! Never could I see it all as I fall, yet I know I will try to fly alone.

We dream today with hope that tomorrow may be better, sweeter. But words mean little in the end.   As the saying goes, let action speak for you, not your words. Lies, half-truths, and never intended deeds   only ever pile up when speech is all you possess. Hope is good, and to dream is not so bad. Bend   your ear and listen close. Without a will, without a cause to power on, your hopes and dreams will die.   Action is the water that nourishes your distant thoughts, just as water feeds all living things. Mind   yourself and learn what calls, then lift up your sails to speed out to desired shores. Nothing won, nothing gained.   However, do not think life as some game with a running scorecard. Mistakes will be made and dreams found.   The days will carry on without a word. To heartfelt work. May you move and make your dreams become true.

Crimson desert of fallen light with sky of opaque blue, stars rest within a nested sphere. How can stars dare to shine while the sun   bakes up the sweltering sand? Hot, yet cold. All dead and all bare before this, a forgotten world. One step is pain, one mile a test   not to go insane. Could someone call this land their home? Yes, Death would. With the ship now lost and crew bound to similar fate. I alone   within this decrepit land, urn of Death's own hand. To forever walk within this crimson desert of bloody doom. The sun never   moves fixed overhead, it beats down on the dead. The horizon cares little for my heart, in truth. Thirst and hunger seems to settle deep   within my barren body. Must I be alive? For if I live, then death must be some blessed hall of rest. Or did I die instead?   The ship broke in two, and the sea took us all. Perhaps this is hell. To walk without a thought, to walk endless miles as hope falls with sand.   Yet, by some mercy, my journey of loneliness ends