Galaxies
Like old time chums who must bet on every game, We know that for us, the game isn’t just a game, We even go to the stadiums, faces painted like raving fans, But at the end, all that remains is
Palace Lights
The darkness of the world snuffs the last of the lights out, If only for half a day, the night has considerable clout, But the night is merely a stage for my insecurities to play, A backdrop so tempting, that
Recoil
They had always agreed it was like a crystal, resplendent, And so flaunted it as if it were a diamond pendant, The hundreds of patterns merging in a design so intricate, That they altogether avoided touching it, however delicate. But
Foundry
Mocking, they said, for the both of us it wouldn’t work out, That, all it would take is a match stick, for both of us to burn out, And for a while it seemed we both too, were in doubt,
Ten Percent
Often, the stories we hear from unfortunate brothers are the same, Stories of loss, stories of failure to keep ahead in the game, Whatever their story, all that seems to change is the name, The rest is simply different shades,