POEM 130 (10 W)**

Into the rabbit hole
                       we go....
looking for those....    mushrooms.

Aztec Warrior  3.11.16

~~
Away A Spring comes
Through the windows of the old
Where yet I see the past times of gold
Though I could mention
Still takes some times to
Get out of detention
Of all those values of drowning dreams
Though everything passing with trims

Either Come back again
As any other forms
In the horizon of the Wren Drongo, Myna
In the Sparkling bright days
As if red flamboyant of lost Spring
That only Says a beautiful String

But yet the dried leaves are floating
In the water of Calm Lake
Where yet I'm passing a fake
Within the game of light and shadow
While Love wearing a mystic mask
That confesses me too many tasks
Bright and dark moving with cradle

Forbidden to go near
That I Couldn't bear
Flood tide in the river
Full moon broken with eight pieces
In the silver light her silhouette stands on the shore
Behind I see the closed door
In the known Seasons of moon
Century's sigh as if an elusive tune

If slowly lost all
Put those dreams here again
Even I couldn't leave any pain
But the rainy season can be washed
Saltwater of eyes
I try to feel the bliss
Away, will return the golden
Days of Summer  
Off course there will be
Something on the bottom
Love will come on the
Cloud's raft of Autumn
Away, A Spring being a call of beckoning
~~

My roots strong
Weeding their way all the way from europe. Humming thrumming from the pillars of Rome, to the sea walls of Greece, from Germany not far-off, France to the left.
Albania, Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia, Slovenia, Hungary, a stones skip to the right. Switzerland just up ahead, Swiss Alps the high life.
A side of the world where all things consist, different ideologies, different faces, Europe's best of the best.