Tropical God
Tropical God
Filled ice caverns, barren arctic whisperings
Empty hollow frozen wind, no sound within, no call for God
No need for that when cold sets in against the raw vicinity
Animals, man, vacated, absent, vacant cases of humanity, closed
Old snow is everywhere just standing cold
Escape to the heat where tropics burn the soul
No where else to go to find sweet fruit, reality and sleep
Hot sand, calm surf and scorching sun rains down
Colors come in red clay, sky blue and clouds of white
Soft palms sway with prayer solemnity to reach the sea
Yellow flames frame the happy mellow landscape sands
Pagan nature stands guarded against complacency
Normalcy reigns supreme, pink dresses, blessings
Tongues lick salt but it stays dry
Lemons drown in beverages
Harsh to the taste and sober
Thoughts roll over, run with the tide
Tropics conjure up a God
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