Countless Hours

All these countless hours drawing to a close, never
Ending, heading down the empty racks, running soft
And nimble fingertips down the cold, hard metal.
The tempest is rising, into the night sky, filling up
Like a tank about to reach its critical mass. Operatic
Tongues light ablaze, ready to sing the song of destiny.
Show me how to live, allow me to carry these battle scars
Torn asunder, the stitches cut right through, like a knife
Sinking into the softest tissue, pouring a crimson tide.
Jubilant laughter, echoing through the halls of my
Now forgotten school. Sitting idly, as the walls cover with
Jungle vines and the linoleum floors are replaced by
Rich, moist soil. I till the empty fields, sow them with seed
Of soul. How desperately I await for them to grow, to
Reap the sweet nectar filled fruits, spurting up from the
Shallow depths of my forgotten hallways. Fueled by
God, Love, and Light the tiny sproutlings push through,
Surface barriers are broken, as the roof of stagnation
Gives way to a cerulean sky. At long last having reached
Crowning heights, they shall flourish on their own.