Vines

Wind whistles in poplar tree An ancient ballad it will sing to thou The ballad filled with divine majesty Mesmerizing power and beauty The alder swings gently in summer breeze The nightingale sings his melodies The cold back towards the arctic flees The sun frozen heart and spirit frees The thorns the very soul will impale But above them pretty rose’s flower its petals will unveil No matter if through storms the ship must sail At the end of the voyage it will find its holy grail Many vines like different dimensions are drawn on the scroll One is beyond continuum of the soul Together they are magnificence to extol One for example is the primordial quantum the big bang of the very soul.