Our past is something we cannot change,

Whether we learn from it or repeat it,

Is what we can control;

But fear not violence,

Anger,

Destruction,

For as long as love,

And light exist,

Hope is not lost.

Cliches are interesting. To think, one time they went by completely unused! And when they came into existence? They were entirely new. Throughout the years, their meaning and uniqueness fade. By the time you come to appreciate writing, what was once born of brilliance and creativity is "avoided like the plague". 

My breath lingers in the air but I long,

for yours to join me 

These silken sheets feel all too cool on my skin,

But roses,

Would have nothing on you

Heat blossoms from inside but you

refuse my moans,

Trapped away in your hurtling metal cage, 

my dear, I long for your skilled and heated touch.

Oh, how these cool sheets crumple

From passion, their silken indifference 

no match for,

this hot ardour and passion, 

these ripples are but candles 

to the flame

begging for you inside me

Writhing, how can I contain 

this possession of violent desire? 

I long, 

for a little death. 

Dream high

shame the Tower of Babylon

and surpass the skies.

Dream free

look past the threshold of heaven

and reap a destiny.

Dream in rage

the walls of Jericho had long fallen

dread not the bends and charge straight.

Dream of new

be faithful of dawns and wary of dusks

despair the old and carve a different you.

Dream in justice

the skulls in Calvary have rued their fate

abhor the cold and end its solstice.

you stare transfixed

as green flutters to the ground

this is what makes the world spin 

money