Purple Wind

Poplar grows tall It reflects the visage of divine soul The tree that connects earth with heavenly hall Is poplar after all In autumn poplar’s leaves turn gold In its boughs wind whispers ballads of the old It is the metaphor of that very wind that is wonder to behold For sacred meaning of life winding roads of destiny it will unfold But also other wind the one that is beyond base of time And the fact that purple lord has his hand in it is sublime If meaning of life in normal wind will be shown as if by pantomime The wind of beyond primordial will be expressing what paradigm Someone left his love by a poplar reaching for the skies Behind the great sea her spirit lies If he will not see her before his body dies Let him be buried in her azure eyes