The sky this morning blushed red.
Perhaps from more blood shed,
this time halfway around the world
into ground that is being swallowed
by a rising sea.
A swollen sea fed by tears of agony
the whole world sheds
And who is right? Who is wrong?
We all sing a song
confusion over who is right,
and so we spend our days
darkening and turning from the light
of love and wilting with hate.
Soon our days are night.
That, though, can change.
It’s not yet too late.
Image Copyright: Kati Bergman 2015
Sitting by the windowsill
trying to catch the rain
that dances in the air and field
and kisses every pane.
Thirsting for a taste
of what lies just beyond,
as the clouds finish crying,
dry the skies and move on.
Take a look into your future?
Do you really wish to know?
The path that lies before you
and what direction you will go?
Tell you your fortune?
How well can you bear the truth?
Are you really so quick to brush aside
your quickly spent youth?
The future may be bright.
The future may be dim.
No future will you have this or any future night,
if you don’t live
in the moment you find yourself in.