Searching

You’ve got your way of doing things The more you rest, the more it stings You’ve seen it all before a hundred times You’ve loved all sorts of folk there are You’ve written songs and traveled far You’ve forced the meter into empty rhymes It’s lost down in the darkness there Where frosty shoulders chill the air It’s warmer to look for it in the sun They’ve looked before you too, my friend There’s nothing out there in the end This quest is nowhere near being done The seeker and the found must become one

Rohingya
Image courtesy BBC: http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-41585864

I know, little one, your fear is real You’ve heard the screams and you’ve seen the pain The cuts are deep, no time to heal For the wolves are hot on your scent again.   Lady with child, babe to your breast You’ve lost your love and you’ve missed the train You find the shade but no time to rest For the wolves are hot on your scent again.   Your tears have dried on the face of your bride In her shallow grave on a grassy plain Have to save that kiss for the other side For the wolves are hot on your scent again.   Too old to run, too weak to walk Everything they burned lives on in your brain You can tell your tales, but you’ll break the clock For the wolves are hot on your scent again.   Get drunk, my dear, on this patience sweet Time is dead; it’s time for the truth  to play Let the dew on the meadow wash your feet As the angels hunt and the wolves are prey.   Featured image courtesy BBC >> http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-41585864