Crossbows Turned Toward The Sky

The healing mud had turned to dirt

The saltlicks had formed to crystal

The ringlets around the moon

No longer promised rain.



Even cactus

That once outperformed

More lush greenery

Left it's drying and gnarled

Tendrils to drift onto the ground.



The crossbows were out.

The sky pleaded with once

Well-fed and enamored citizenry.



A day had come that once had passed.

A time had come that history

Wished to never repeat again.



In the Eden of our awakening

-Dawn crisp with overindulgence

Of fire-eating and persecution-

Black magic consumed

A wish of betterment

For a time lapse not forgotten.



The crossbows were out

-The targets were empty-

The sheaths were empty

-The fields dry of blood-

Imaginary massacres

Comb-stuck in the mind

Of wanna-be assassins

-Hunger driving sane people

Out into the street

Like zombies and leches

That had forgetten the sky knew their names.



The crossbows were out

-Steel over steel searching for answers-

The crossbows were tight with agony

-Whom do we strike?-

-Whom do we kill?-

-What is it out there that requests

We threaten the sky with our mortality?



The sky swallowed

And refused to beckon the rain.



Earth's petty shelving

Allowed remorse to fugily persist

-And those that held the crossbows

Marched wearily into the night-

-Arms ready for any sign of enemy-

-Fingers pointed-ready to fire

Even in sleep-

-The demons awoke on edge-

-The climbers of mountains

Regained their strength-



-A violent candidate

Conceded without surrendering-

All across the demarcation

-Of sky and wealth and untapped diversity-

The stars shown like pheasants-

The sattelites winked

Like criss-crossing fireflies-

The emptiness and vastness of it all

Beckoned the hunters to release their bows

-For within the claustrophobia

Of planet earth

People felt consumed and hindered

By the unjust laws they placed upon each other

And the guilt of prophecies

Long passed-but still never heeded.



It was the emptiness of sky

They dove into in hopes

Of salvaging any of their cluttered wisdoms

From eternal mothball rott

-The dawn of new generations had come

-And befitting a paradise of lost dreams

And endless reincarnation of dull hope

-The saviors of compassion and morality

Fitted their youth with new weapons

-A crucifix that hid an easily drawn blade

-A textbook with the pages cut

In order to transport ammunition

-And the most basic weapon

-Invented before logic and reason



-It was hate-



-Instilled in the mind of children

Who's minds were as deep as any ocean

And who's imaginations extended further than the sky

-Cycles began again like the gears and widgets

Of the sun and moon

-As they circled around ego-centric earth

-Nearly on fire-Nearly drowning-

But always doused-Always just afloat

Always just a hilt above complete disaster

-Hovering there-In the kind of calm waiting

That made the hooves twitch nervously

Below the stone throwers feet.