Duties of a Sentry

These are ten thousand heart beats,
Each one a life a piece and a sentry
Of pride in someone's eye.
Silence becomes these,
And in these a sly,
Shy moment sighs.
But then again
The badgering and bickering begins,
And we plunge into ten-thousand sins,
With a thousand more a piece.
And our mouths spew insufferable words,
Because our sins cannot cease.
We are the elite;
They preach at least.
But we are commoners,
And steady guardians of an
Insecure peace.

I believe

That is is all falsified.
That my conscience is the foundation of my choices,
Even if it has many voices,
Which do not tread with ease,
Over my overanalytical mind.
So you tell me one thing,
But I'll actively choose another,
Just to pull one over on you,
Get the ruse?
I knew you would.
Carry on.

0630

I saw on this morn
the clouds...
they were bursting with orange,
bleeding with reds,
singing a chorus
inside my head.
On this morn I saw too,
the purpled sky
that once was blue.
The sun was cradled
by the misty morning billows,
its sky is the heavens
as it laid on its pillows.
That sky being my heaven too
serenades my approach
as I walk into
the waves of an ocean
so far and wide spread,
never ending miles,
none ever said.

None ever being said
my friend.
On this morning I could
die a happy woman.