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	Amelie Blecher


	We're But Cranes of Paper Made

	We are all but cranes of paper made,
	of blood and fire and mirth,
	poured into folds of
	intricate frailty.

	Oh, were it that paper were of stronger stuff...
	Of gold, of steal, of titanium wrought!
	for these wings, they tnter, they tear, they fray...
	and more and more becomes less
	each day.

	But...

	What if sunsets were in endless supply?
	What if the corporeal crane would never die?
	Where then would joy in that light lie...
	in the moon, in the sun, in the dew kissed fields?

	Ah...

	They are precious only because they are frail

	Oh, let the steely birds have their eternity,
	they will grow weary of it
	Let them barter for a moment more,
	to try, quite vainly, death`s hand to stay...
	A time longer on the stage,
	their warn, thin, useless wings to display.

	It is a gift this frailty
	A reminder of our worth.
	From the light in which we`ve flown,
	to the shadows we must fade,
	A lesson thought
	In patience paid,
	we are all but cranes of paper made.




	Oily Rainbow

	Little sis sees a rainbow in the
	puddle, but daddy says, "that's oil."

	Michelle Vallet



	Dancing In A Clouded Mind by: Mandy Ferachi


	With patterns I step round my mind.
	The skeptical soul I find
	is clouded with illusions, half blind.

	Prancing through these fantasies I see
	Smoke stained images of misery
	that smolder my illumination, my glee.

	These clouds will soon bust showers of tears.
	The storm will flow with currents of fears


	Dancing I gaze, directed of haze.
	with this tornado, out of this vapor


	Where I see a glimpse of light and realize
	that my mind is breeding this demise.

	I will not surrender to defeat
	I compose the rhythm of this beat.

	I control the roll of emotion.
	This is not some wicked potion.

	I will sway,hop and feel the bass
	that will bring me to that sacred place.

	Where music pumps through every vain
	and diminishes all perception of pain.



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