It is the stagnant virtuosity,
That fuels this denial of tongue.
Walking around this world of wonders,
Knowing not where feelings are from.
A sun in the sky,
Green pastures and grain,
In the midwest of adrenaline,
Searching for rain.
Down a dirt road I walk,
As my eyes open wide,
For the lacings of leather,
Now revert raw-hide.
I hope in the sky,
That one day I'll sing,
With a freedom of tongue,
And a heart birthing spring.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Excellent
I quite the simplicity of this write, for underneath it there is a wealth of meaning. I enjoyed your imagery. Thanks for sharing this one with us.
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