Crook - Fallen from the Skies

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or email Most Trafford titles are also available at major online book retailers. Copyright 2012 James P. Crook. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author. isbn: 978-1-4669-4354-4 (sc)
isbn: 978-1-4669-4353-7 (e) Trafford rev. 06/19/2012 www.trafford.com North America & international toll-free: 1 888 232 4444 (USA & Canada) phone: 250 383 6864 fax: 812 355 4082 Contents The Man with the
Pain in his Arm To the Woman
it is Written The Story of the
Frightened Man To my family who supports me, including but not necessarily omitting: My good brother Joseph; my industrious father Scott; my mother who is the best woman on the planet, Laura; my wonderful, honorable, hardworking, loving grandparents John and Jane Parker; my aunt Elisa; and her three little daughters who I think of as my sisters. Even an adolescent is allowed to dream; and dream of things; wonderful things. Even an adolescent is allowed to dream; and dream of things; wonderful things.

You have no idea how smart you are. Do not confine your ideas to a jar. Let them out; you will go far. Once I thought and felt like you; I thought to myself, What more can I do? Then I prayed to help me through. Now, I like to write, I write a lot. I jot down about every thought, for happiness is what I sought and happiness was what I got.

Remember that writing about something sad will never ever make you bad. Write about whats in your heart, and this will make your soul much stronger, and this will make your life last longer, and this will make your heart grow fonder. The black night is a place I trod; It is a place I have to go Its moonless sky is a sight no man should have to see No word of caution exists to prohibit one from there Then to crawl out takes more courage than that of a wind up doll If one truly wants out he has to know that soon he will be back, And that is why the night will be referred to as the black So lost and confused; I felt all alone. Sad and lonely; I knelt at the throne. Next I perceived a ray of light. It blinded my eyes and my heart took flight.

There is no earthly reason to fear, Now that I know my angel is here. Through the thickets he runs along; Without a prayer; without a song He flees to get away from here Because his heart is full of fear And now he feels the breath of death That they breathe down his neck Crying; though he cannot know why Then his soul heaves a sigh All the lies they tell of him That is their greatest sin No one holds their head up high Now that he is about to die Oh, his heart beats so fast Just a prayer, it is his last Next he takes a leap of faith His life is sadly his to take Out of the eyes of the saddened child; Out of the eyes of me Out of the mouth of the wise young man Out of the mouth of me Out of the dread which dwells with me Out of the songs I sing. Out of the world I wish to leave Out of my heart that bleeds The tears that fall from the man who loved (The man who was not loved) The pain that only a cut can heal (A cut that does not heal) He heaves a cry that haunts the soul (It only haunts his soul) Followed by the deeds of his past He only wished to be freed at last But she would not let him go. And so he waited; and waited still Until gone Freed from his cave forever I see them looking But they walk on I see them looking But they talk on I feel the pain That they can see I feel the pain They could take from me They see the light That leaves my eyes They see the light That slowly dies I wish I could I wish I might I wish I could Put up a fight How do they Think all is fair? How do they Not even care? In this hour Of dark distress In this hour I progress And even though I still know not And even though My siblings fought There must be still Some steps to go There must be still A larger foe Now I weep Because I love Now I sleep Up above The Desert is gone Now it is an oasis A beautiful oasis in which we live Paradise is what we call it We also call it our home The lion rests with the lamb The Lion who stands upon the matted cloud He who roars with a thunder that needs no lightning He, in his ultimate omnipotence, surveys the rain falling to the Earth Down, down; each drop seems final, then penultimate, and then eternal No other creature stands with the Lion because no other creature can meet his gaze Brilliant and Penetrating are his eyes which can cut through gold The Tiger stands below wailing with bitter anger The rain cannot touch the Tiger For the Tigers rain is counterfeit and perverse and unholy It is oil It reeks of grime and smothers its victims The Lions rain washes away the Tigers oil Water is pure and oil is filthy And so respectively the Lion and the Tiger We live to laugh We live to cry We live a life And then we die We like to try We try to love We wish we could See up above There is a path The path we walk Our hearts are clenched We cannot talk The sun will rise The night will fail Through his hand They drove a nail And through his sides And through his feet And in the heavens We will meet Such a pretty girl, A little girl was she She loved to twirl in her dress; A ballerina she would be She loved to learn of happiness She learned to always laugh, She loved stories of kings and queens And adventurers in life rafts Like any girl she wanted most A dashing prince to bring Sparkling diamonds, rubies, and jewelry (Princesses love those things) But then that wizard came And he forced himself on her Sadly, he took her innocence And for that, there is no cure Ever since those dreaded days The child has been a child No more happy fantasies, No more adventures in the wild. The saddest part of all of this Is that all her jewels are plastic And she will never dare to dream A place where everythings fantastic.