@2 Avenue Blue,
lies a slate overgrown with the bluest of moments,
cue the crashing waves of silence, and a wooden ship carelessly washed ashore;
unwanted and forsaken

@2 Avenue Blue,
a terminal night falls, showing no signs of any kind of hope in dawning crimson . . .
white-capped and perpetual waves of the past
wash away so many castles built,
gifts in the sand,
the sacred stuff of God;
fragile things, like so many grains of a dream lost to heaven, maybe hell

@2 Avenue Blue
midnight cries at a butter yellow moon, a flickering candle in a desolate night sky,
a solemn lunar lullabye
to the crashing waves of change,
forever washing clean the sins and inherent innocence of a distant
yet barren shore . . .
discovered, yet unknown and maybe new
@2 Avenue Blue

Darkness falls like heavy rain,
colouring the dormant landscape obsidian,
a pall upon the earth . . .
In lavender hues, the nightshades bloom
As shadows dance inside a room, where he sits in his deafening silence

Dropping his cares by the bed where he lays
he closes his eyes on tomorrow
Soon the nightshade will bloom
taking him far from this room
where he sits in this silence and prays . . .

Maybe the waiting is part of some plan, with ghosts of the past drawing near
but the signs of the dawn keep him lingering on, though he can’t remember the here
and now . . .
The nightshade will weep, the north wind will cry in a world he can no longer find
from the indigo heavens above, a solitary amethyst teardrop falls,
God’s healing salve for a father’s weary mind
And the nightshade will sleep . . .