A Turn of the Cycle

Author's note: 2-3 meanings, themes of love and revolution

After the bell,
When light falls from the windows,
And darkness overruns,
Desolate hallways,
Students gather in silence,
In strength, in protest
For a new beginning,
Men arise, with hearts pure,
For the good of the students,
Slowly coming forth,
To begin cycle anew:
The revival of Red,
Rising from the ashes,
Of a spent, purifying fire
A love, so pure,
It is a sacrifice,
For strength Unity,
For an Ideal, once thought dead
Once times of old begin anew,
When the wheel of time turns another round:
When men awaken from their jaded slumber,
To awake to a world in need,
When passion once again
Flows through their veins,
And love fills the visions
And actions of all men,
When great minds,
Turn their gears yet again
In aid of the people
Whom they love
Who braced themselves,
For coming days
Days come and past
Dark, and stormy
In times of transition
When all men seek
The ever blazing stars
Of Friendship above,
Tantalizingly close at hand,
To reach up from the rubble
Of Conflict and morphine:
A great age, reborn once again
When men once more
Embrace each other
In uncertain feel,
To revive the love
Once thought lost,
And never there,
The great vision
Of a vast crowd
On a stormy day,
Meeting together
For a great marriage
Of two noble persons,
Of students singing
With all their hearts
A manifesto of existence
 Declaring their voice,
Proclaiming their passion,

Their true love, and desire
For a glorious new era
Of inter-dependency
And co-prosperity,
An example
For all men
To see
(M.)

 

Update on Life

Sunset,
The blessed time of day,
When daylight makes its last stand,
And is overrun,
By the blissful respite of Night
The moon, in its full glory,
Rises over the far towers,
Dancing a graceful waltz
Into the starless sky,
My eyes, ever faithful,

Track its course,
As I sit before my computer,
Waiting to be set free,
Free from the accusing glares,
Free from the queer stares,
Free from the cursed light of day,
The gentle beams caress my skin,
In a warm, passionate, familiar embrace,
Shadows awaken, and begin to dance,
Lithe in the presence of moonlight
Whispers become abundant,
Trickling like a stream,
Relaxed and unafraid,
Of people lost in dreams,

I lay down

long after

in anxiety

of the next day.



Bad∞End∞Night

Love this Song: Any clues to deeper meanings?

A short poem story...

 Note: Before the Birth of this blog,
Another published a story of mine, here it is:

From The Shadowy Mists

My only friend; she’d talk to me every now and then, in better times past, when I lived in paradise. Well past the final breath of the bell, we used to wander the high school’s lonely halls. The struggle of learning and its draining burden was thrown off our shoulders, I no longer alone. In isolation, by the dying light of sunset, we would meet and patch our wounds and ease our troubles. I would waltz with my lover, to the lonely piano and violins of a solitary man, each step another sliver of arrow shaft driven into my heart, bleeding passion for blood. Each note magnified the seductive smile of my partner, I playfully resisting her advances. She would take it in good fun, knowing I was hers. Then, love knew no bounds. We were equals, comrades in arms; two lovers, thrown together by fate. I knew not her origins, but we quickly bonded. She would giggle as the light of the dying sun would catch my silver rings when I flourished fingers as we spoke. Through her, I was taken into a different world. Though I saw naught but a dim hallway, we witnessed judgements cast upon us by mute shadows; looking on as we used dance slowly, gracefully, as I caressed her skin. Holding each other close; her soft flesh against mine, hearing nothing but the silent cries of existence, but listening to our private symphony, I lifted my cares; each struck snowy key, each bowed brass string, syncopating my steps.

Such was life around me:

Hallways full to bursting,

Groaning under the strain

Classrooms, barley containing

The young minds of this generation,

Wishing for the weekend so desperately desired,

Wandering, some anxious, some careless, some lost in dreams

A moment two hours past, captured by the open mind

Lying on the lounge couch, plush beneath my fingers,

We cared for nothing in the world

It was in such bliss that we lived in such days. But I knew not; each note slowly wove my hangman’s noose. It was then, with the final thread, the world fell from under me, and she stood there, smiling.

I awoke in the same hall, standing, empty and alone: once welcoming shadows resented my presence; a once warm safe-haven turned into an eerie wasteland. Not a trace could be found of her. No one ever knew.

I never saw her again; from the misted void she came, and to the misted void returned.