as if fearful of being trapped, bounds up high,
warmth no longer gently prickles the air, arousing the wind;
churning oceanic clouds float in to scorn blistering pride,
bathing the land in watery respite of scorching blunders.
Still I sit ... destitute
even the sun deserts me, a quiet disgraced retreat,
behind the sombre hills, hardly mounds,
callously conspire to hide it,
the setting rays betrays its boastful surrender,
disguising clouds as fiery billows of Hell asunder.
I sit still ... resolute
on crystal skies, stage the endless eternal starry dance,
timeless universe bubbling of Novas and Nebulae,
inner doubtful darkness smothers the night,
in perfect shadows the demons and witches made their claims,
twinkling stars beaming a gem studded bed, resting the moon.
Sit still I .... absolute
weary aged fog tumbling on forward, trailing powdery mists,
assuredly rolling on, current masters of the realm;
calm scents of the forest waking up rides the breeze,
razor chills reminding the land of the days to come,
scatter the ghostly veils, reveal earth gloriously naked.
I still sat ...
Edited by third_eye, 07 March 2013 - 10:49 PM.