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C’est dans les forêts Où je trouve ma paix C’est à la campagne
Children already grown Kisses already forgotten Plants already flowered Flowers already burgeoned
lest we orbit Weyekin's bode amidst the fire of our obsessions, recherche ciphers within wet ashes, charcoal forests'
Her white Silhouette,Weaves through weeping, tangled trees,Of this once thrivingMarshland, as her screeching wails,Bear this man's, looming death
"The darkness of a shadow The trickle of a stream The sweet grass in a meadow] As light cuts through the trees The little barn owl swoops low As a mouse rustles the leaves
So...Can you hear my whisper
Deep into the untamed lands so alive the ancient forest heals a frozen mind.
Green and red and blue eyes wild, Darkness and light and spinning breezes, The laughter of a fairy child, And the words of the toy the child squeezes. The fae dance and twirl among the trees,
Mountains of steelA society forgetting to feelForests of distractions for mankind
Golden air of mountain,The Trees glow with the sunset light,They sing their own goodnights. Though not a last goodbye,From stream to mountain they sign on high,In air, their children fly. And the moon’s sweet whiteness,Will struggle with the sunse
We fall like the leaves of Autumn, helplessly to the floor. We follow the wind, looking for a better core. We let the wind guide us to see what's in store. Yet we act like we know what we're doing,
Wild yet wonderful creatures that sore in the night Wise eyes set on prey, white feathers shining bright Wisdom Wings knows no fear The world is pitched black, but she can see wonderfully clear
I've known forests: I've known forests vast as oceans and taller than mountains. My sould has grown roots like the forest's. I saw the dark snakes of trunks and long limbs of roots.
Before words, Poetry was what I saw, Outside my window. Swallows swooping from, Spittle-caked nests. Bobcats bounding among,