My Mountain I


The sounds that mound my Earth is broken
On the day when times lust has spoken.
O' the words forever more will lie
within thy souls of tears he sigh.
And he whom hast been sewn'
through the path he hast been grow'n.
without the laughter under his favorite spot tree,
the sweet but honest truth that bore he and swelled in he;
while the stars are the Moonsire's highway,
for he, torn through guilt that his eyes taught him sway.
When grown master-pieces paint his day, and his spirit's lively way,
grows through the ends of his grave.

And though he paces together the ocean's wave.
For
no one can score what another's race has bore,
but has called all to another shore.
Thus enchanting his heart to another time (not able to handle his own grime),
with pieces yet again ... again ... as if no time existed the day.

' All of the time'
-Quote the day

Now the experience is past due
thoughts are minded the whole day through.
And the mountain will sing in he (as time
grew through his own grime),
and called himself the day.

Therefore there is nothing more,
upon that mountain shore.
to be
the hope that will grow in he.

Only his hope has flow'd through he
through the mountain who is me.

 

Picture Credit: Pixabay

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Nathaniel Hammel
Nathaniel Hammel

I am a Traveling Publisher, Printer, Graphic Designer, Musician, and Artist! http://nathanielhammel.xyz


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