The Posibilities

For existential essence, with my eyes, Which they integrated the past birds, All account of what I given is a term Of universal lost. Then I must admit, similarity of what It is or not the full significance Of what I need, any empty road where I lay. I want to leave with the sweet Breeze of immortal veins, with that cry, Crating a picture of desire, not by empirical River that seems to approach the ocean with calm. At in this respect my name should be shared With the stars, the wholeness of what I provide The less pain, down to the hill where a slope Of stream would be the hope of a hundred like her. I feel to lose the light, that afford to it, But there is no certain pond that I could Bath my heart against the wind; Serving the last drop after I have gone. I wish to return, to fix speculative errors, For the most part that I haven't been able to fix it before, and it's understandable. It is wonderful to see through those eyes, As it pleased you and me, the freedom, The sensation of writing, alone, fame, All from that time hence me away by the distinctively Reflection of given and being away.