Serenity, peace within.
Serenity, about to begin.

Rotting, peace falls to the ground.
Serenity, lost and found.

There sits the Tree, plucked apart.
The Tree, Tree of Peace no more but wanting to be.

The twisted figure towers amongst the rotten leaves for all to see,
Rot and rot in harmony.

Remembering the days of old, glitter of gold.
Now arises the scent of mold.

Nowhere near the season of decay,
The Tree uproots and falls on a summer day.

A tree of gray in a world of green,
Now an intruder to its surrounding scene.

In the dirt the Tree will stay,
So common its part in a Cosmic play.

All will look, and some will sneer,
But those with Wisdom are those who fear.

For this Tree is a forecast of what's to come,
Known by little, manifested to some.


the tree

Slivers of light, the sound of a horn,
Indications that a new day is born.

With water and soap I'll wash away,
All the evidence of yesterday.

The players change, the cycles repeat,
Just wake me up when it's time to eat.

Call me bored, tell me I'm jaded,
It's really not that complicated.

A tear, a frown, a laugh, a smile,
It all blends together after a while.

Dust can tell time without using gears,
Unless you care about counting years.

If we can predict the tides and stars,
Then why not, these little lives of ours.

I watch, again, as the slate is wiped clean,
But I no longer ask "what does it mean"?

When what happens next doesn't make sense,
When hope is mostly in the past-tense.

Cluster-fuck crisis' leave me unfazed,
Now that I'm grazing among the grazed.

Why keep climbing the same mountain range?
I know the view sucks, doubt that will change.

I hope you forgive my unpolished prose,
And lack of comparisons to a rose.

Writing on the wall is plain to see,
It's just "déjà vu" and "c'est la vie".

It seems my heart keeps writing fiction,
Using the same old bloody diction.

I keep asking "where is my savior",
While staring at a clock-shaped glacier.


New tracks tagged ##machineglam