What sad weary eyes we have

that see, in all the world,

such poverty and pointless pain.

Would not the sunlight bathe upon it

if we simply look again?


For the eye of the beholder

may choose the depth of tint

we see, through a rose coloured lens.

A hint of fanciful forms,

as they filter the rays they sense.


From beneath the haze

of the shimmering sun,

lies beauty, long forgot.

Or is it simply a mirage,

cavorting through rays far too hot?


Skies of deep azure

with clouds of cumulous mass

drifting lazily on the breeze.

Picturesque landscapes of floral palette,

until winters frosty frieze.


Glorious forests of glazed art,

twinkling icicles, like baubles

on the trees of December.

Wondrous days of innocence pure;

of younger days remembered.


Beasts wandering wild and free

in bountiful wooded wonderlands

of willow, beach and pine.

Snowflakes join to form a blanket

of majestic patterns, sublime.


Meandering melt-water streams

flowing, afresh with new life;

untainted and abundant.

A world reborn of marvelous magic,

colours and scents, resplendent.


To look upon a world in pain

and see beneath the silken shrouds

to the beauty lying below.

The scent of love, life and passion

is there for all to bestow.


We need to look from behind

eyes that want to see,

the life that we need, restored.

As a composer, creating the music of life,

is prepared to re-write the score.



Written by Darren Scanlon, 15th November 2014.

Revised 27th July 2015.

©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.


August 11, 2015


August 11, 2015

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