• This is not a place
    but a state
    of mind
    not body
    and a flow
    a rush
    with a hush calm
    that storms through the skin
    the field is still
    as the wind howls
    and blows
    as the moon lit trees
    shine in day
    the silver clouds fall to
    the grace of a changing
    still life of the landscape
    the gound grows
    as your heavy steps fall
    the shodowie day breaks
    out from the illuminating moon
    to grace the eyes of those
    who will it to end

    what you take is yours to breathe

    and what you see is yours to hear

    silence falls into glass

    and sheaths it's dreams