Terminally Moody Times
Moods shift like a wildfire in a violet -virulent wind.
Everything that flees is freed or scorched -scarred.
Everything left behind prays with unmatched intensity.
Emotions and levity are assigned to the grave.
Some guardian angels are successful.
Others are perpetually on sabbatical.
A few are just too damned green.
Or too blind to make any difference.
I'm told to have unwavering faith.
But I always waver to the third degree.
I'm told not to question, but I always question...
With unmatched intensity....
We live in terminally moody times.
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