The Warriors SlokaThe scars from pains which have long pastAnd fill his mighty heart with dreadDo bog his mind with questions greatBut give him strength to move aheadThe knowledge seekers hold the keyTo profound truths that he must learnUntil this truth he comes to see,The fires of vengeance in him burnThen his hatred is extinguishedHis eyes opened, and now to seeHis place in the cosmic orderAnd realize his destiny.
OrlandoI see the look of cold indifference in your friends eyes and the open contempt in yoursBoth of you sneering with an air of superiority from behind the covers of your Jane Austin novelsMy smile is met with a grimacing sneer on what would otherwise be a soft, femanine visageYou quickly turn your back and rush to the plane that will take you back to Kansas CitySlowly I sigh and lean back in the chair cushioned with cheap foam rubber, I close my eyes and wait paitenly to return to the boundless sea of reeds and grass below the turbulent skies of Southwest Florida
Wild Mountain ThymeThe spectacle this land displaysTranscends the visions seen in artTwas to this land of mystery My restless spirit did departI journey through this boundless landA trip for which I had no goalExcept perhaps to see the truthAnd drain the abscess from my soulThe fog hangs over mountain highCatching the glow of morning lightUnpretentious, subtle beautyFills my psyche with great delightThe might and grace of the mountainsThe cool embrace of grass and streamThe sweet beauty of these highlandsAre as if something from a dreamI glimpsed the truth I saught out thereWhat earth could show me about lifeHow agony must fo
Sta.sh
Keep up the good work,
