100 Years Too Late

Rejection, death, or fantasy ... you can be the judge.

Within the silhouette of time and space
I struggle still to see your face
of one so noble, one so true

Like the clouds that mask the moon
Your presence faded much too soon
Now reigns darkness instead of blue

Stark, as white hot desert sky
with feathered soul and wings to fly
I'm left within myself, just me

Ghosts now walk in nightmare dreams
Coyotes talk and subdue my screams
Shape-shifting ... and now I see