Breaking over the mountain tops
the brilliant rays of the morning star
fall silently through the trees
landing on a new born fawn
awakening it to the coming day.

Beating down relentlessly
over the barren desert
the shimmering rays of the golden orb
bake the delicate cactus flower
til night falls and freezes it.

Crashing into the azure ocean
turning the waves a golden sheet
turning the sky red as blood
pouring its dying warmth
into the waters until day breaks again.....

Echoing down the corridors of time
from ancient history past
the truths and fables of mans history
come tumbling like a vast waterfall.
Certain drops of possible truth
fall gently to the side
no one ever knowing 
if it's truth at long last.
Other drops keep falling down
to hit with echoes great
Leaving people to wonder
could it possibly be at last?
Still others keep on flowing by
and no one seems to question
How or Why, Where or When
or even if it's truth of fiction.
But even then, it's just too late
for no one, for fear of friction
thought to step in and test the waters
and see if it was mere preconception....

I have writers block
I need some inspiration
Somewhere, somehow
I need a destination
For this train of thought
To reach the station
Maybe some red hot coals
to make this baby go.....
Anyone got a hot-tub???