Feathers doth protect the winter song bird.
Did not you hear the wisdom of my words?
Hath not you nerves of a thousand Kings reign?
What planet doth thee hail thy given wings?
Lowly be I, you call me thy peasant.
My mouth for sure did move, the sound I chant.
Hollow soul, no compassion you, thee utter.
I, across the stream at Shanty Shutters.
A little girl of a million dreams forth.
The Earth be round, visions vast in course.
A cockroach, thy shall step forth, splattered dreams.
Gods wonders, artist paint mountian and streams.
Spirit of thy soul, cannot be owned thee,
For in the heart and mind always be free.
(comments; A million years, a million songs, through it all, we still have classes
and still see color.)