As the tide runs under a glowing moon
Shallow faces hum a sorrowful tune.
The music they play, and the songs they speak
Strong mortality embodies the meek.
Thus, I cast stones through the ancient fire
A tradition lies of hearts' desires.
Failure is to create a world of pain
I don't play with fire; I build the flame.
A vast heartache crawls through a troubled past
Creation enfolds a young mind at last
Don't cypher through a general course
To lie's to live: a great remorse.
Your deep waters flow, and soon will be gone
A destined life starts here; just skip a stone.
Share This Poem