The biology of the impossible
How doth heredity talk 
Gregor Mendel, experiments uncountable 
Genes, the new science on the block 
Who dares uncode his Master's creation? 
Nature inspires, science cavorts 
Tis' not enough to know fornication 
But also how nucleotides consort 
The human genome denuded 
Piece by piece man's inner sanctum 
Of genes, up to now obdurate 
Secrets unveiled, the last denouement 
By artificial means 
Gattaca thus would be our earth 
Selection based on genes 
Miscreants deleted before birth 
The biology of the impossible 
Leads man to live a life immortal 
Earth Gaia, broken and unrepairable 
Pays the debt for a life perpetual

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Deep in the brain where the memories lie
On the ghost of the earth
Lives the memory tribe,  

There on the earth where the ancestors keep
The ghost of the earth
Alive in their sleep,

We dream of a past still alive in our flesh,
When the ghost of the earth
Was in dreamtime still fresh,  

Our spirits recall the first and the last
As the ghost of the earth
Remembers our past,

The ghost of the earth shines pale and white
Soft colors of ashes
Glow quiet and light,

The ghost of the earth sees with grandparent sight
The mothers of fathers
Of children of night.

I feel the world in every breath,
I live its life and die its death,
Its crying width and laughing breadth,
As above, below.

I struggle in its timeless grasp
And hear its ticking seconds rasp
Myself to flesh as Eve to asp,
My spirit wants to know.

I feel as baby and as stone
One half flower, one half bone,
The gem has hardened and has shown
The fossil is my woe.

We, too, survived and greeted spring,
We waited for the things warmth brings,
One small band of worn and weak
We see the strong begin as meek,

The miracle of new beginnings
Ever present in the endings
Throughout our passages and trials
We can see ahead for miles...

And now we see our path renew,
We see the many in the few,
We see the year beyond spring rain
And see our lives begin again.

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Clothed in black, conjuring a full moon
The raven
Said words on high,
Words of time
The Spell of flight
That caused the wind to fall away from her
And return again
 
Hearing her above
Hearing her below
Welcoming death.

She looked down on me that day
I heard her words
Of time
Her spell of Flight
She took my air away from me
She took my breath

I fell to earth
In a slumber as dark as her breast.

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Bay leaf and woodspice
Swirl on the salty air,
Cool streams of tears
Find solemn paths down your face,

The flavor of this year
Turns to a dryness
That you carry in your mouth
And around your heart,

And those that sleep in the dust sing prayers
In a single note with you.

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When the sun was high that day,
A beast came and took a child away,
It came to visit, not to stay,
And brought the child back,

The child stood in the forest there,
To wave farewell to the beast so fair,
As it left, it paused to stare,
And then it stayed no more,

She went back to that place again,
To seek the beast where it had been,
But only found a pain within,
And wished she could cry out,

For many years the child tried
To find the beast through tears she cried,
Behind her tears it tried to hide,
Just beyond reflection,

One day she looked into the mirror,
And saw the beast that she held dear,
On her face there was a tear,
The fair beast was behind.

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On this day I found a name,
Upon its speaking spirit came,
And listened to its spoken sound,
The sound and spirit same.

The mothers sang it in the dark,
And nurtured there its tiny spark,
They wrapped it 'round me warmly,
The soft against the stark.

For when they saw the darkness gone,
From where the ice fields now lay thawn,
The new was born from ancient,
The naming of the dawn.

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I wish that I could walk beside you
Moving through the rain,
I'd care for you and try to hide you,
Far from any pain.

I wish that I could dream beside you
There among the trees,
I'd give to you the rest denied you
Deep where no one sees,

I wish that I could live inside you,
Shining through your eyes,
And touch the light I've always tried to,
Your love without disguise.

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Behind me I feel the pressure
Of the crowded and the free,
So oppressive are the people
As they all move up to see,
And there beyond the glass you sit
Throughout the endless day
Surrounded by the green
Of a prison far away,

On my side things around me
Seem so close and hard,
People never far away
But always on their guard,
Yet we celebrate with fever
The captives we've become
And daily bloat with pride
As we watch the world succumb,

  While you sit alone enduring
The burning of our stares,
And the burning of our fevers
Caged within our earthly cares,
You sit where they have put you
In the trap that's both our fates,
And watch us back through fences
Where we love the things we hate,

All the while you see us
Through your dirty jail wall,
And keep your quiet dignity
Like we weren't there at all,
For lines are where you draw them
With the stones inside your head,
The lines between the captured free,
Or us, the freely dead,

The question is apparent
As we take and hold the free,
Who then is the prisoner,
The wild things, or we?

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Dress in the sparks of a million years,
Dress in the rain of a million tears,

Wrap yourself in your ancient kin,
Living in the color of their ancient skin,

Its scent comes down from a wind on high,
Dress in the breath of the spirits of the sky,

Hide yourself in the memories of those who died,
Those who remember the skin of the tribe,

For we are all the same from behind our eyes,
All are dressed in time,
Where skins never die.  

Wheatfield of Tomorrow - by Darryl Goode

Fragments of visions harness reality
& reunite in a graceful
Mosaic.  I see heroic homes
Quite proud of their charm
Smiling with great red shudders,
Bordering aquamarine windows.
But, no one is afoot
In the paisley dawn; they
Are in their happy
Homes.  As I gaze,
I can just about see the
Hint of ocean.