Walk with me amongst these few written lines,
Tracing the cyclones twist into the realm,
Of the delirious and the divine.
Pay the boat man at his eternal helm,
For efficacious spiraling travel,
To the shore blessed with crooked lonely elms.
Within the forrest the path unravels,
Refuses guidance to the distrait man,
And offers meretricious road’s gravel.
Heed the hearts injunction, hold hope in hand,
Reticence is the falsely winding path,
Over, through, miasmatic, morass land.
Seek equanimity, dismissing wrath,
And alight from precipitous winged dreams,
To reality with a puerile laugh.
The realm of real twists, and spirals, and reams.
For my brother...
Submitted to Theme Thursday