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AtlasGruenePoems
This wilderness, I aimlessly wander through. A deep breath The air, it holds a tangible primitivism I follow a beated path along the brook As it guides my directionless saunter Stillness of mind and habitat coalesce. Dragonflies dance with my eyes As I ponder their surreal spirits Loneliness is liberated from every definition Identity is lost in the harmonies of every root and leaf and songbird Begone to all the names and labels, Now It comes in the abstract waves of shades and colors, Now This wilderness, One organic tellurian phantasmagoria. This wilderness, A warm ablution for the cold comfort of my reality As it humbly sits Just beyond my backyard picket fence Waiting.
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Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
This wilderness,
This wilderness, I aimlessly wander through. A deep breath The air, it holds a tangible primitivism I follow a beated path along the brook As it guides my directionless saunter Stillness of mind and habitat coalesce. Dragonflies dance with my eyes As I ponder their surreal spirits Loneliness is liberated from every definition Identity is lost in the harmonies of every root and leaf and songbird Begone to all the names and labels, Now It comes in the abstract waves of shades and colors, Now This wilderness, One organic tellurian phantasmagoria. This wilderness, A warm ablution for the cold comfort of my reality As it humbly sits Just beyond my backyard picket fence Waiting.
Written by
AtlasGruene
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
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