My griefs on solemn forest’s sounds,
Rests thereof on nature’s crib.
Soft rhythmic tunes near and afar
As oozing air causes the leaves to clash.
The thickets of the forest, then the dew’s dome
For as where there be dew, so comes dawn again.
Dark nights begat gay days, same did she to sunrise
These drops I could count clasping the wind from a sniff.
Then the lunar feed, an influential impression
On good and evil, letting the black skies cut through her proud
Tapping and rattling, the night was made busy
As colonies prepared for drought, off these absurdities sprang a
The night… the night
How was it found, from whence cometh its being
The wind so cold, stars shine so bright
Silence roams, bestowing the land’s peace
Eyes can hardly see, and listening ears scarcely lead.
Perception fed on all it could find from those that came,
As the ears lure in its appetite from all that were.
Questions fill my prying eyes,
Yearning for whence cometh such wisdom and order.
As night precedes day so the day to night,
Such simple sense of sequence I search for mightily.
Of course, of such that has been made I know
That God saw it and said that it was good after making it so.