ORIGINS

A thin streak of pink where the blade has been
An untold story of both accident and design
When emotions rose up, washing sense away
And no conscious thought will ever hold sway
Whilst regret and remembrance hold the line
As reluctant contributors to the saddest scene

Like a fine silvery wire of brilliant lightning
It splits the sky with a sharp scalpel incision
A reminder of the promises still unfulfilled
As with brother thunder they’re soon killed
Demanding total surrender, no indecision
With darkening skies ever more frightening

A spark sizzles and fizzes in the black night
And sounds suddenly in the eerie silence
A germ of conscience takes its first breath
Yet still denying its identity as a shibboleth
Looks the other way when seeing violence
And smiles, convinced that all is alright

It smoothly disappears quietly into the void
With no explanation or any excuses given
Imagination is the only thing that can survive
Letting weird fantasies and nightmares thrive
Ensuring that all minds and souls are shriven
So that any remaining time can be enjoyed