(The War on Compassion altered space and time....darkness set in, memories were lost and seconds turned to centuries....one final stronghold stood between love and the promise if it's eternal empire....then, without forewarning....the world forgot how to love)
The fatigued wind, running so hard to find the past
breathes a sigh onto the horizon.
A slow romantic sun
kisses a burned out moon to sleep....
making cynical shadows long
and the sleepy moon's uninspired commands pull immortal tides into forever,
dreaming cold blue dreams.
And dreams of imprisoned teardrops
beyond the other side,
assigned to melt lost memories
and hold them captive forever, in a place where the
clocks move too slow.
And dreams of approachable ghosts
break through pain's portal
between two worlds,
dancing in the rain
barefoot, not the slightest bit bothered by the thought of catching cold.
And dreams of Peter Pan lookalikes
slide down a neon kite string
to the soundtrack of goat's bells
on farms in Ohio. They're happy.
And dreams of phantom waves
through Love's portal
washing lost memories
onto present handsome shores.
Then....a sudden metallic sand crab
comes a crawling out of the dunes
dragging a rabbit foot
and for a second or two....the world stops.
The cynical shadows: they wake up frozen.
The centuries: they turn back into seconds.
The teardrops: they revolt.
Their resistence frees the prisoners....
and the memories....
no longer are they lost,
their ransom gladly paid.
(And with that....trading darkness for light, the world was free to love once more....and to never speak of this again)