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Tomorrow Is


made for those to discover what yesterday

held close to her bosom beneath a blue cloth

wailing chants flutter on moth wings to the moon


a mystery left unsolved to bygone days

and unpaved shallow roads bearing the raw truth

masked dance on dormant dreams weep a lowly croon


a folktale adorned with obscure reflections

in murky waters at the edge of a creek

wailing chants flutter on moth wings to the moon


blind to the twisting, turning, spiraling storm

ripping through the heartbeats of promise unseen

masked dance on dormant dreams weep a lowly croon


waking and walking in pitch blackness of day

balancing a tightrope wearing lofty hope

wailing chants flutter on moth wings to the moon


a thief out to satisfy his thirsty soul

bearing no mercy for what is destined near

he basks in contentment and reverie while

wailing chants flutter on moth wings to the moon

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