Eventide Dream Poem by Micheal Bello

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'They must understand that we can only lose by taking the offensive. Patience and time are my
warriors, my champions.' Leo Tolstoy
I watch as I stride the earth making them accelerate. Another time lived, other lives to live on. I
watch as I stride the earth making them accelerate towards the end game, a point where lives
veer into moist. One time has ended, whilst others live to live on. Behind my measuring tick, the
feet walk, ducks swim, and mornings slide to night to morning like the wheels on a cart moving
forever forward. I watch awaiting the brightest crown convey, the rouse of sunlight. Promises
lace with scruples epitomises humanity, to me the god of the hour, an hour weighs better than
life.
In the evening tide nature whizzes below the clouds, and the Earth's surface walks closer than
heaven. The lakes, oceans and sea flash light and throws torrents of glare, and the crosstalk of
nature rhythm. Fishes thrive in liquid slush, their lives weighed in my wake. The gurgling noises
as an internist, where herbs, fields grasses stack, plop and brush the boots and feet in reflexes.
The tarred road undulates, like elephant grasses, the humans as miniature stars wink and
sometimes like super novae die as I stride on ever on. Tires whirl pollutants, and dance to the
echo of silence and I twirl and twist like the soul reaper, the hour glass glints in my hands at
morrows beckoning.
I skid over again, as the clot raindrops falls woodenly. I belch humanity; the saints and sinners
as they tread the wheel of life. Their faces, laces of facet happiness, grief and regret. Dust
below the moon shadow dimples grief and sorrow like a mother god. The silhouettes scenes of
the burglars grip, won and lose by whisker. I spin the world, with my eyes glint with pity. I watch,
and move for ever forward.
I can tell how nature admit, appreciate in benevolent and grateful splendor, for the spring in the
life, and the fall when dry and crumble within the sun big blow and the sky maul fall and the
blowing wind. I watch them snare and snores at the death and live bed. Roses bloom in the
morning, and falls by the nightfall. The hour flight is the camcorder to all zones and regions. A
smile creep on as I twerk towards the timely manner.