I stand atop a high cliff

I stand atop a high cliff

Gazing out to sea

Dreaming of faraway places

Anywhere but here

Missing nothing

Until it’s gone,

The flesh hangs off the bone

The eyes grow milky

As grey skies roll in

To swallow the future.

If I believed in god

I would ask if he knew

More about sorrow

Than the flinty men

Leaning on the bar

The tired women

On their knees praying

For their souls

With the marks of anger

Splayed across their bony backs.

Sad scars

Bent on suffering

Protecting the children

From the mean streak

Narrow-minded hypocrite

Who calls himself

A god-fearing man.

Even as zealots set sail

There is always time

To turn about.

Spiteful are the clouds

That scud across the bay.

Romance in full sail

The ironclads belching smoke

Yesterdays ghosts

Line the way,

An assembly of memories

Gathered together.

Neverending stories

Screaming from on high

Longing to be young

Short on time

And the where-with all

To stop the clock.