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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #2205088
By chaos or design? I don't really mind...
Walk with me past the threshold,
‘Cross dew-scented fields and sparkling rime.
Let us race like the rapids
Cascading towards the sea,
Like the flood of the waters
That rise with the tide;
Come with me.

Toll no bells, for we shall not heed them.
Sound no horns, for we shall not hear them.

Meet me there at the crossing,
Seven steps from the fallen power lines.
There, the only wall in sight,
Is erected through courtship
Between horizon and ground
And blessed by the sun;
Come with me.

Draw no maps, for we shall not need them.
Name no stars, for we shall not read them.

In this windswept cathedral,
Built of earthen halls and streams serpentine.
On an ageless riverbank,
Hand in hand the epochs stand.
There we sit and hear the song
Of the Hinterlands;
Come with me.

In this frozen passage of time,
We watch all the planets align
As Hinterlands echo and chime
Serenades to cosmic design.
© Copyright 2019 J.J. Netzach (jjnetzach at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2205088