Cycle

Crying souls and bleeding stars,

But nothing I can do to help.

Gods of war like ancient Mars

Rise up and strangle me like kelp.

Not in the cycle, I'm not a tool,

Not for intents or purposes.

My time is later, I'm not a fool,

I'm not a clown in the circuses.

Is this silence just a dream,

Just an illusion so easy to break?

Smash the reverie and watch me scream,

Scream for the souls I can't save while awake.

You steal my joy and break my rhyme,

Leave me mindless, and to the side

Of Nature's cycle, of proper time;

I'll be swept away in high tide.

Make the cycle, break the cycle,

Epiphany is not at hand.

I am the master of that grand bicycle,

But time sifts away like wind with sand.

Note: I was craving solitude when I wrote this. My experience in Australia had cycles of introversion.