More of my developing fantasy world.
The skylit land is soundless, filled with peace,
the unwilling mother to displaced orphaned man.
The trees stand tall and proud and never release
the deepened shroud from whence we all began.
The world-embracing sky, a deepened blue,
is but our long forgotten saddened father.
The clouds' pointless wanderings slowly ensue,
the sun continues his journey, each day a bother.
A people of our world's tales and stories are we,
a wandering tribe, a wondering nation of lore.
Many receive instruction, telling all they see,
the journeys of the past and the future's unopened door.
I've seen the oldened ones who sailed the stars,
the ones who saw with their three glowing eyes.
But I see our future saviour who lives in wars,
whose father now lies dead we all surmise.
He'll stand upon the darkened cliff just past
the desperate hour and watch his new creation.
He knows not whether this newborn world will last,
for he has smashed his foe with every nation.
"If history is to change, let it change. If the world is to be destroyed, so be it. If my fate is to die, I must simply laugh"
[This message has been edited by fractal007 (01-02-2003 04:32 AM).]