The rational connection of mind to heart, fails;  amidst oppression.
And selfs' own sake will hide away, concede;  deny expression.
As I, now, twisted internal, seeking within, my fill.
For famine of mankinds' virtues, beckons me to my own will.

To draw upon my minds' well waters, reason every discourse thrown,
But are these resolves born true? Is this slant really my own?
Or some opinion, stole in past, from man with noble name,
Or truly this, my own wit? But impressed, are they not the same?

Though  life revealed foe, of friend; the spirits' urge will still attend.
And Hope; unbound, ever present, dwells; unfaltering, fervent to end.
And Faith, oh Faith, clings on, clings on;  amidst war and grief, despair.
Such as a moth to a miniscule light, when the beam is no longer there.

Though I have no mortal hand to clasp, no steps in tune to compose,
Behold, Hope and Faith still wander inside,  and outward, in my prose.
And what of Nature? I'll tell you. Possession of a freedom I full own.
No enemy, traitor, nor judge can claim the memories I have known.

The majestic crystal sparkling, of tiny buds on trees.
When noon is at its' highest, clear day on summers' eve.
Deafening quiet, stillness yet, of brook in land, far, near.
Where all alone, I gathered pebbles, and threw to spring so clear.

To sit and almost ponder, paths foreborne, foregone and chose,
Then too pensive, outcast those thoughts, minds' purpose opted close.
And stared, vacant, purposeless; to focal point, of what?, unsure;
Oppression could not enter there; for nature and heart were pure.

And dear sweet wind to hydrate, the thirst; sunquenched,  my skin,
Yet not too fierce or frequent, that would be appreciations' sin.
Clouds, course set  by own accord, frolicking, playfully, with the sun,
Flit over, near, under, and back, and then softly, become just one.

And behold, grey cloud, rumbling, with precipice; this is natures'way,
To alter sky and mind inspire;  grant seasons within the day.
And rain; higher powers' solace, to cool, to heal, to renew,
Sparkles more grandly at times by far, then sun on the morning dew.


May life impose upon my heart, oppression, body frail, dreary cope,
It shall not ever wrench the hold of Nature, Faith, and Hope.