Where Minds Are Freed Not Molded-
dipping my paddle in and out as I go
down main street of the wilderness empire
where the road is made of water
and the wooden poles hold branches not wire
twisting through the changing banks
of a gentle but still thunderous river
while an approaching mellow darkness
causes the birch tree leaves to shiver
and the setting sun flickers like a candle
through the trembling branches as it says goodnight
but the storm wins the race and smothers the sun
before it had the chance to fall out of sight
as nature is one of the few places where
chaos and tranquility walk hand in hand
and there is no script for what will happen next
when the elements rule over a nameless land
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