Once again hovering:
over an ocean,
not of water now
but of children;
lost and losing
Each sigh of his:
a hurricane,
every tear:
a monsoon
each yell:
an end to the age
Alas just turning another page
in this story of loss
He, seemingly losing
his pride and joy


Humphrrrh
From rich and arrogant
to broken and bust.
He had seen the cycle
of life leading inexorably to death,
every time death.
For it was not the way
they were made.
Children without a father and mother,
brothers and sisters;
competing in blood and guts,
waste and ruin.
All in the name of fear.
My dear, you were not made for such.

Such misery and toil,
to boil over into impotent rage.
Unable to fight past the despair;
there! Are you happy now?
I thought not
you cannot see the truth
of love and life.
All the passion for prosperity,
all the vitality for relationship.
A life like that which eludes even your deepest dreams
and lasting longings.
This nightmare will die with the rising sun
The son will rise and win,
for you.
Grasping at independence
all had fallen
But always there was hope
while he himself believed
and asked for free choice
to choose him with all
and forever.