Interval (On The Run Suite)

Listen to Interval by Richard Charles Stevens (On The Run Suite)

Listen to On The Run by Wolf and Raven

Loosen your burdens
For a moment
If you will
For I am certain
You’re deserving
Of postponement
To all perverse hurts revealed
Release the pressure
Pressing on the point of no return
And cease forever stressing
Second guessing
Every blessing
To undress the curse
Oppressing you in turn

Sea of fern
Refurbishes the earth
Through cursive courtesy
Furthering the nurture of each seed beneath the urgency
Need not plead
It’s heard you see
Seen and felt
Concurrently
Overlapping
Mapping
That in fact held back internally
Actioning a fraction
Of the passion interleaved
To fashion passive passage through the trees
Massively relieved
To breathe
The air of calm
In charm
Serene
Chancing arm to glance each branch
Advancing pathway in-between
Sea of fern
Convergent
Keen to further season fervent dream
Seek cohesion
Gleaned from each recurrence to the theme

Nothing is as hopeless as it seems
Bluffing leaves us open to deceit
Suffering encourages
The courage to proceed
Suddenly renourishing
We flourish
When we bleed
Hence the dreams
We dreamers dream
Are keen to reconvene
Learned of final curtain
We redeem

Let go
Of the pain
That chains
The veins
Inflamed
Named and shamed
Better yet
Go roam the plains
Take great reins
To fame terrain
Claim domain
Embrace the rain
Relace your brain
Erase the stain
Reacquaint with nature’s way
And make way
To a safe estate
Chase the ace
Remain the pace
Then take the stage
Release
Earn ovation
Turn and face them
Breathe

Should we reel
Then come back swinging
Lend the end with fresh beginning
Losing tends to lessen winning
When excused of penicillin
Willing only our succumb
To disown, exposed and numb
In the throes of unbecoming mercy killing
No mistake
It bleeding hurts
Leaves us neither seen or heard
But our eyes mislead us cheaply
When their blindness is deferred
Should we feel
And come back singing
Lend the end with blest beginning
Then with wingtips on our crests
We lose the knack of backward winning
No attack upon our backs
As we relax in rapture brimming
From the fractures
Only casualties can heal
Only then can we glean stature
To fantastically reveal
Lead us not into compacture
Let us feel

Be that pleasure or pain
Whichsoever ordeal came
Under severance of blade in cold steel
Peel the layers away
And endeavour to appeal
To the greatest altogether
Every feather of forever
Through between to more than never
Let us feel