The Season of Fall

Before, we were The People
We wanted something closer to perfection
We’d die for our unity
Now We just want a break from it all
And a beer

Before, we knew to walk
We paid the price, the Cost of the thing
We’d spill our blood for posterity
Now The People talk nonstop
And ideas die



A little wet, a little shallow, but aren’t we all, us puddles

A universe, of salt and depth, but aren’t we all, us seas 

Reflecting light and gath’ring warmth, we flutter and we crash

We sustain life, we refresh souls, immerse yourself in We

There Is Only We

Who worries for the 
Dust under the fingernails of searching hands
Dust brushed from faces of fallen family found
Within the rock-rubble of spilled homes, villages 
How far away is this from here

We worry for the 
Dusty shelves
Fallen knick-knacks
Milk-spills on floors
How long the pretending we share different dust