Wash my heart in your tears of love
Held in a cage of joy
Your voice seduces my dreams
The sky of blue love awaits
Your kindness is my drug
In the darkness of my mind
Your eyes are lanterns that lead me to hope
The sky of blue love awaits
Restful on a sea of stone
Under the tree of autumn colour
Your touch warms my soul
The sky of blue love awaits
A kiss the breath of love and life
Crimson beats of unity
Music and song of passion echoes
The sky of blue love awaits
Raindrops fall upon the tin roof
Hands rest upon the cedar table
Rivers of dreams splashed across the window
Hide the wilderness outside
The air is chilled the fire gone
Silence pervades the room
Waiting for the sound of music
Watching the door of time
Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables at home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
(Source: onelinerfanatic)
Crimson Sounds the march
ANZAC day 2012 Sydney
An old digger takes another step towards his friends
For many years he has walked this journey
Valor and sorrow not forgotten etched in his heart
Friend and foe equally remembered in his dreams
Skin weathered by time eyes touched by love
Love for those who stood by his side waiting
For dawns light to show the truth of war
Laughter carried on a sea breeze
The kiss of sea spray on our skin
Arms hold each other close in awe
The power of the ocean surging against the shore
Senses raging joy and desire
To blend with the waves to fall free
Taste the salt upon your lips
Witnessed by the ancient rocks weathered and wise
Testament to love vows of trust a ocean kiss
Whispered fears grappling with my soul
From dark crevasses of my mind
Hands reaching to drag me down
To forever take the light from eyes
To crush my spirit destroy my love
Deep breath turn my eyes skyward
Walk straight towards my angel
Her beauty of soul slays my demons
A kiss scars healed fears banished
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