A Poets Stand

steping into the rain. water drip on my shoulder,
I see heavens gates but my life ainte over,
I see the angels coincide in my life,
I see the demons in peole who ainte doing right,
walking on this dusty path, dusty road,
the rivers of babylon at my feet, flow,
enemies wrath encountered with no defeat,
My troubles gone are only a deceit,
The system broken among a shameful name,
"A dreamer" they said we shall proclaim,
The dark shadows moving through the light,
The pain in their eyes sparked and ignite,
Sins are driping among the sons of man,
From a wishful thinker to those who ran,
Where is the temple that consoles our souls,
so that we breathe easily and extol,
smoke in the air, dreams dripped on the weak,
The wind hides the sounds of their shreaks,
winters cold is the ice in our hearts,
The warmth is the conscious that imparts,
How do you define a path that you cant pursue,
one you can only understand and construe,
Evil is awake in us all but that we cant accept,
Truth will not fade but the lies will spread,
We all look to the skies at some time,
But what are we looking for, something divine?,
God is reaching out to us through the clouds,
you may not believe but you can avow,
Quiet now so we can hear the whispers creep,
The silence is waiting for us to sleep,
Unknown is the chances that life gives,
An oppurtunity exsists for it to be lived,
We can deny every moment or we can believe,
We can deny the meaning or we can conceive,
This world is one where the lost hide,
A haven for those who have been denied,
Judgement day will come but where will you go,
Will you let it appear or go down below,
We are always sitting back, constantly waiting,
for what I ask, this world is here for the taking,
The kings of the past need no explanation,
but man itself is willing to the devils temptation,
The delights can only be won with effortless work,
The prize is their but the competition still lurks,
We breathe for ever moment but what shall appear,
A feeling of excitement? What shall we hear?,
Life is defined but the definitions are misunderstod,
The troubled are still moving and up to no good,
A poet stands for the things he has seen,
The soceity calls for its followers to convene,
Walk they do to the hill, looking for the light,
they cant see anymore because the darkness is night,