Sweet Illusion
The morning falls from wings of day
beaming light in the fields of hay
and thine smile is now in sight
passions do rise through its heights.
as river runs in the silent brook
so my sentiment in madness soak
and the moonlit on the bay
shines brightly to close the day.
swift as the speed of light
is the sentiment on it's might
and the beaming spark of passion
reminding me the sweet illusion
the whispering of Zephyrus wind
reality to me it sends
and the curtain of ebony
engulf my emotion's tragedy.
as the howling calls of time
the sentient of mine sublime
in the bivouac field of life
within the windshield of the the strife.
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