|
Freedom
|
To love is to cherish,
To feel is to love.
Nothing shall falter,
Not the wings of the dove
The crystal clear image,
Behind anybody's eye.
Cannot be copied,
As the dove begins to fly.
His beauty shining through,
In the chaos of the town.
As light as a feather,
Even when he's down.
His freedom is envious,
Anyway he can go,
The skies his limit,
As long as the wind blows.
|
|
|
|
|
Confused
|
I have walked this field once more,
Upon the bridge and near the shore.
To find the limit of the sky,
Of which the clouds will float on by.
The philosophers have always taught,
That we should sucumb to such a thought.
That there are mysteries beyond our reach,
And never a silence we shall breach.
Another field, another sky,
Another dream will float on by.
|
|
|
|
