The children play in the sunshine
In a nascent dawn born of baited bliss
Three pronged foot webs in the sand
Of creatures hungry in the meddler nights.
The dreams that hold immensity of night
Forms sound- sculpted in zones of skies
Strivings born of the search for unknown
Wandering wind in passing left a message.
Shorn of chains in straining culprits of hill
Robbers of lives constrained by prouder will.
The children play in the moonlight
In nutant nights born of burdened bliss
Three panthers striding across the plains
Casting their shadows under starry hiss.