the ripe winds
perch upon the threads of
western disturbance
trading through the
vastness of liquid turmoil
flowing and cutting
across the narrowest
of vengeance
that has laid upon
this land flourishing
under a disguise:
of mere nothingness and
certain similarity;
for who knows
what converses with the
frigid north
and talks to the
passes of the mighty
peaks of middle Asia
walking past the grandeur
of the Himalayas, and it's
many ancient towns
where no other
has been of any importance
whatsoever
there in the sweet solace
of solitude and crisp sunrises
i find myself dreaming
of the tranquil winds, and
ancient passageways:
far from Nazareth and
the cradle of men
where the old brick
roads now sleep in dusk
and there's nothing
left to conquer
built upon the spectacular
-- on this olden earth
i find myself yearning
for little things.
Nov 5, 2021
Nov 5, 2021 at 8:04 AM UTC
the ripe winds
perch upon the threads of
western disturbance
trading through the
vastness of liquid turmoil
flowing and cutting
across the narrowest
of vengeance
that has laid upon
this land flourishing
under a disguise:
of mere nothingness and
certain similarity;
for who knows
what converses with the
frigid north
and talks to the
passes of the mighty
peaks of middle Asia
walking past the grandeur
of the Himalayas, and it's
many ancient towns
where no other
has been of any importance
whatsoever
there in the sweet solace
of solitude and crisp sunrises
i find myself dreaming
of the tranquil winds, and
ancient passageways:
far from Nazareth and
the cradle of men
where the old brick
roads now sleep in dusk
and there's nothing
left to conquer
built upon the spectacular
-- on this olden earth
i find myself yearning
for little things.
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