That peak that I sight,
covered in white of snow,
how mighty it is,
letting you know.
It stands tall,
with only a few having seen,
the fall,
from its top.
How rare,
is its back down,
with lush verdant green forest,
all over grown.
In that I could venture,
in an adventure,
the flora and fauna,
as if a peace house for Lady Madonna.
The blue bouldered river that drew and flew,
from its middle,
had me rambling along its shore,
with this riddle,
who made it all,
and maintains so well,
not allowing it to,
decay and gall,
answer me
answer me,
in doing that,
they look heaven wards,
and sigh,
he knows and he did,
ask him if he would,
answer your prayer and bid.
A vision of prayer for a drop of rain
thoughts of a plan to save his lost
a wisp of dream all the while insane
thoughtful for a simple hope
grounded in eternal loss
reflected to the universe
an open sore is salted
an abyss separates all
and tomorrow is here
knock knock and only the wind replies
knock knock and weeping takes seat
the man of eternal regrets who finds at last
what once he refused to seek
patriots die for patriots cause
patriots duties or part of who they are
not for glory or becoming a star
they fight for what they believe in their heart
the spirit to live and create a true dream
a true patriot acts out his own theme
with his life, his will, and his prayer to God
he'll fight unto the end against all odds
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