Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, sung in trees green ans filled with life in a time when stone and brick has begun to grow and cover all those places where nature once ran ramped untamed and unending. And while the young lambs bound to a path intended to make us be more then what we must become in a desert of lies passing with the heat and struggle of a failing dream that life became long ago costing us what we dream for what we desire only in our dire hour.
As to the tabor’s sound, ringing through the land like an echo of something lost long ago to people who lived with purpose strolled in glade and meadows glancing only for a moment before ascending above to the creator.
To me alone there came a thought of grief: for those lost on these streets on this boulevard of broken dreams when Lall thing don’t matter but I still walk forward into a future where I stand un top of an ivory tower above this world covered in darkness.
A timely utterance gave that thought relief, from stress caused in a fury of time bringing more powerful concepts of what we already knew that time family and freedom make our lives more glorious then imagination could create.
And I again am strong: for those who follow me into an unknown gift we call life so when I pass into history and join the legends of old only a maker will know and remember my time in the life of a world still turning in the space guided by light.
The Cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; sounding a coming enemies hell bent on turning our dreams into dust in an ever expanding world made to hold the people in place so few can generate more prosperity for themselves. No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; in times of woes filled with cries of suffering and prayers of desperation no sensation can overtake or understate.
I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, besides monks spending time meditating while there not educating the next generation on an idea of peace and tranquillity.
The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, where I lay gazing up into the sky where nothing but my maker is prevalent in my mind filled and consumed by the light.
And all the earth is gay; songs of life sounded in the voices of those precious things passing in a moment
Land and sea .
Give themselves up to jollity, in a dream beaming at the seams colourful enjoyment cutting out negative things lost in sea of diamonds.
And with the heart of May my love I dream of your return not to today but the days of old were we stood in a filed of gold before the gates of human.
Doth every Beast keep holiday;— long in its hunt of prey thus I linger on in the world I have made were scenes of love lost age comeback to me in furious page.
Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy.