Ancient Skies

They sat and stared at the lights in the sky, 

Twinkling embers of distant worlds set on high.

Wondering where our world resides in the sands of time,

Are we young, are we old, or in the middle of this rhyme?

A young scout and an ancient warrior, one dreams of the future

The other contemplates the past, knowing it can’t be changed.

But he searches the memories for things different next time around.

The ancient warrior has won every battle he ever fought,

But the scars run deep and it is these he can’t forget.

For the young… life is full of adventure and hope.

For the ancient… it is just another turn of the wheel.

The young scout sees everything as new and fresh,

The ancient warrior remembers how it used to be.

His world now polluted with the stains of population,

He longs for empty spaces and far less faces.

The young knows no better, memories yet to distant.

But for the ancient it was just yesterday the embers glowed.

His memories remember the first lightning strike,

That sent a young world on its way to today.

The scout sees the stars as simple twinkling embers,

The ancient remembers holding the embers of that first fire.

An ancient warrior and a young scout sharing time

And then the sunrise comes into view as the moon sets

Off the hood of the car they scramble to see it better

For the young it is the hope of the future,

For the ancient…well it’s good to see it shine once again.

The cushioned seats remind the ancient of a worn saddle.

He remembers a time of horse and feather,

Rather than the falseness of synthetic leather.

The young scout turns the key and the engine churns.

The ancient warrior cherishes the silence,

But this chariot makes too much noise.

He opens the door and leaves the car,

The young scout wonders what’s wrong

As the ancient warrior waves a simple good-bye.

He’d rather walk and find his horse,

Than ride in some modern jalopy.

As the sky brightens to a new day,

The ancient has nothing left to say.

The young, he drives away forgetting the sun,

While the ancient basks in the glory of its rays.

The young on a freeway of transportation,

Fails to see the clues to his misfortune.

While the ancient walks fields of a green sea,

To pastures of loco weed where his horse may be.

And there amidst a herd of fillies, his steed awaits

To take him to his special place

Where he can once again wait for the sun to set

And the moon to rise with the promise of new worlds to see.

And a new scout to try and train…in the ways of Thee.