Blood ties cannot be broken

They can be stretched

Across distances traversing

The line of time

The past and present become intertwined

We are the fragments of our ancestors

Possessors of futures undefined

Brought to life in three trimesters

We remain shattered pieces

Spread across a dirt nostalgically yearned

Rivers of crimson mud

Hope is fleeting

Seemingly bleeding

Humanity’s violent storms

Create a world weathered by wars

Create a world of orphans and corpses

Battles can never be won if the prize is covered in blood

The victors stand upon an earth barren and burned

Victory dies when peace ceases

Their destiny is supposed to be ours

But can we turn from it –

a redesign?

Can we be too aware of our own observations

To be persuaded by historical expectations?

A new lost generation–

lost within itself.

A legacy yet etched

On mountains yet climbed

Upon which will you question

Your role in the line of succession

I’ve seen the whole world

Yet still I seek adventures

Somewhere deep – my soul

From birth, it haunts

In search for souls

Hidden in the shadows

Gazing and gazing

Unfazed

Sometimes pouncing

Too soon

Never late

I held her hand

And he, mine

Russian dolls

As empty inside

I see her now

My daughter

Too small, too beautiful

To have the earth cover her.

How odd a feeling

To see you now,

After years

Of silence.

A screen door

Locked

Between our worlds

The earthquake of my heart

Has moved to my feet

We didn’t love

A brief brush of hands

Tender words

But you were my world!

Do you remember how fireflies ruled the nights?

We, two travelers, grasping at their guiding lights.

We couldn’t have known that they soon would go

The path that almost was

Is written on the pages

Of a hidden yellow book

Occasionally it opens

To keep it rosy

Your eyes find mine

Smile

She grabs your hand