War\'s silver scythe slices the looming stalks to the ground
Silence in its slow, slipping fall until the crash unleashes an explosion of sound
Symphonies of regrets and hopes bleeding from a legless cloud
Stranded upon the sky
A child\'s voice walks along the wind, meaning not in words but in voice
To the parent’s stare out the tear-stained window while the sun seems to rejoice
Memories beating against the glass, but they turn away to tomorrow
All while trapped in the past
The rain has fed the soil, the blood has quenched its thirst
A body lies in its stomach, not the last and not the first
Gray gravestone, and grown over green grass and death lies a crimson rose
Tasting an unfinished melody upon a forgotten tongue
A crumpled photograph locked away in the beating heart
With a simple oath that from an orchestra of darkness
A small whisper of light will shine through
Into that tear-stained window, blinded by the sun