WIND, RAIN AND TIDES
© Electric Babylon Music Author: M.M.
The future is a measure of how far a man can see, and hopelessness is a
self-fulfilling prophecy, all the meaning in the unturned stones lost to the
season, you sow an excuse and expect to reap a reason, in the poetry of
bliss you try to while the hours, thru winter’s cold hands and summer’s
showers, this life is not happening to you; you are happening to it, the
dumb days turning heavens and the desolation wit.
You search for inspiration when you feel your soul is sapped, in the
nighttime sky but all the stars have been tapped, this world an alter of
sorrow wonder and pain, all congealed into an intangible ache of river and
rain, she says “this” and it all just falls into the bulk of being, what the
eye cant see is the flawed weather of seeing, an undiminished destination
awaits as patiently as god, as even for the willing and the doing favors
Baited by this ostensible orbit we assume the build, dowered in the
futures placebo we are softly killed, change is the kind of nothingness of
machine stress, sensually lost in the deed and her dress, the ever ending
never over labor logic life, is the meaning implied when the bride is
discovered wife, the shifting elements consumed by the mortals secular
clock, wind rain and tides beat change into the rock.