Cycles Come and Cycles Go
Oh, can you hear them calling?
voices, rhythms, they grab hold,
they rise within a heartbeat,
from forgotten days of old.
Awake, these champions rise,
confront misguided reasons,
in thoughts of light and darkness,
on cusps of fading seasons.
Cycles come and cycles go,
moving fast and moving slow,
minds are open, when you mend,
all’s revealed at the end.
Purpose wrapped in shrouds of dusk,
held by scarves of brilliant light,
moving fast, unfolding years,
bold perceptions bringing sight.
Shining eyes through hooded cloaks,
determined in defiance,
stern expressions hold the line,
held firm by non-compliance.
Cycles come and cycles go,
moving fast and moving slow,
minds are open, when you mend,
all’s revealed at the end.
Above the crimson shadows,
where enlightened whispers flow,
empathic streams of healing,
against the madness, glow.
Aire surrounds, thick with vision,
our prophetic thoughts are forged,
replacing voids of the mind,
where warnings were twice ignored.
Cycles come and cycles go,
moving fast and moving slow,
minds are open, when you mend,
all’s revealed at the end.
Audacious, bold and fearless,
in confidence, promise made,
declarations long before,
in histories that do fade.
Hubris plays with apathy,
glaring flaws of stitched up men,
never see the eschaton,
that spells their mortal end.
Empires of the ages,
once consumed, they leave no trace,
while old ones fade to shadows,
new beginnings take their place.
Cycles come and cycles go,
moving fast and moving slow,
minds are open, when you mend,
all’s revealed at the end.
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