With arms stretched to the sky
And eyes fixed on the window of heaven
I gaze cold heartedly upon the journey of you and I
Words betraying thoughts dining in the rain
Quill cuddling the pen with shadowed palms

Of what tune shall I voice the hymns
Of what slate shall I engrave this tale
Of A prophet’s prophecy once told
Of a sage that words to his feet fall
To bow, as time and fate unfolds
Down the lane of grayness’ den
Down the icy, dewy blanket of nature
Down the field and history’s train

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