In small towns are large minds.
Weeping hearts in paths’ twisted vines.
Houses inhabited by the ghosts of faded residents
Lurking in dark corners reminding their fading precedents.
We stare at the sky admiring the brush strokes
Ruddy and violet luminescence as tears choke
At the memories of lives lived under that same sky
Holding weeping nostalgia for the lives gone by.
But a breath in the wind, that’s all that we are
From it we scream and we sing toward the stars
As they burn overhead, their last light we see
Until night turns to day, tides recede into seas.
Echoes on breezes floating nigh on the wind
Brushing with whispers, bringing chills to our skin.
That energy electric, often felt but not seen
We can smell it in blues, we can taste it in greens.
Magnificent and sparse, our lives fade away
But our footprints and shadows linger and stay.
We are pieces of God and we never commit
To disappearing eternal, though our atoms they split.
We chatter on wind chimes, we shine as rainbows through glass
These tales lived as personal, our own stories amassed.
We own just these rights, to have our stories our own,
When collected in the end, we may call ourselves home.
We build places for blessings, and walls that contain
All the love we have garnered, All the things we gave names.
In memories of children we plant and grow seed
We give them keys to our doorways, we define for them need.
Smiles on dark faces and glints in the eye
These things are worth living under crescent mooned skies.
Falling toward the end, we sow memories in stone
If we are blessed to be lucky, we leave behind home.