Chasing the dream that is only caught when not wanted.
In my time of gazing the woodlands
Before times of truly terrible contrabands,
Before the earth and crust's remains lay in sand,
Was a region of elegance and sheer beauty;
God's creation's designed duty.
I roamed in lilacs perfumed in scented spices,
Herbed with gentle behavior, cured in kindness,
Kissing my bare feet and clearing my blindness
With such a scenery of soft tranquility,
Possessing expressions of pure positivity.
Birds flew bequeath over my head.
These woods grew familiar as my own bed.
I studied the limbs of trees alive and dead.
Moments of sweet sounds, lowering the tulips,
So subtle, so quick, as mine own two lips.
Woods so serene, created with care
Leaves no need to be so aware,
For the men who fill these woods with despair.
Such silent soul'd flowers, harmed to the touch
By the men who place themselves first too much.
Pomegranates, pineapples, pillowed with peace.
Sheep frolic freely in the woodland in their fleece.
Tell yonder men from the West to the East,
"Keep your calm, swallow your pride,
The woods you search for have already died."