The green-gold moss of her velvet dress,
Here clings tightly
There flows generously
The blonde tips of long grasses, move slightly in the breeze
The scent of the sea is on the wind
The rocks below as ephemeral as the clouds above
The call of the wild surrounds me
Rising from the sea borne flocks
The songs around me
In the calm and steady gaze of dawn,
The ghostly voices
That make me think
I am separate from all this
Lose their meaning
Revealing themselves
As only a babbling brook
Of random sounds
What if
I kept my face turned to this
Just this
And did not turn away?
