The center of much beauty anicent fossils tresures to my inland sea.
For under the hard rock there is flowing water, as it trickles through the metamorphic backbone from the far north shores of our respected historical allies.
Survival comes from the liquid gold that we are blessed with as we burrow deeper.
Red soil untouched It takes one season to harden like clayrock and one thunderous clash to fill the bowl and soften the dusty layers.
Cleansing lasts as long as it takes to soak away the impurities we haze across the land.
This island has Its blows from the east and west as It rushes past leaving desolate heat and the scent of salt water.
Native the lungs that break though the mantle sapping and blooming as nurishment for our southern wonders.
Cool to us the arctic bite the ying to our northern yang, atmosphere filled with the boiling fire of humitidy.
Shaken but not broken my beautiful back yard for my heart and my feet will forever stay!
As I stare into the southern skies
so many seasons so many whys, blissful dimise to my bound eyes.
I see no sence and there is no Zen
when I remember way back then.
Sick of deserve and everything of worth
as I worry for this changing earth.
Push to the peddle and pitiful tries,
cry for we are.... alive.
COMMENTS
-