Grey Morning Skies

Grey morning skies

and the clouds are simpering.

Stay with the spirit rightly found, into the day and the clatter of the war we wage abound.

For when night falls, a kingdom awakens.

Fall into the night sky with spirit alas no more.

Soar at length so that the day may keep her trust,

so that I am vigilant, alive and grateful.

And within the cradle of the constellations, the raging storm below is just that… a passing moment.

Both can exist.

Higher than height…I am the cosmos always expanding, forever in awe and wonder.

Faith created from the hollow, sick and sadden abyss, I pray all along the way,

I pray so that the day may keep her trust.

For “When great forces are on the move in the world, we learn we’re spirits—not animals…. There’s something going on in time and space, and beyond time and space, which, whether we like it or not, spells duty.” -Winston Churchill 

Ready or not, I’ll be there tonight.

No longer the one who had forgotten,

but, free and genuine and so high above the land that no longer bears fruit but instead grows weary of its own.

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