Day or Night
Day or night,
To mock a killing bird,
In Racoon's Cabin, away, mi boys.
The infant waves of the serene lake,
Are like the crevices of my mind,
Splashing against the banks of my skull.
A hypnosis, of a sort,
Induced by the transcendental powers of nature.
And for one minute, she is still,
And refreshed anew.
The opposing currents of her tai chi like motions
Compel my eyes to where her surface.
Is the surface of my eyes,
Her waves, my tears,
Tears not shed for sorrow
But in realization of her awesome beauty.
The boats that sail by intesify her flow,
While still maintaining an ever so powerful stillness.
The rolling hills of her surface,
With armies of men on board,
Wheeling through time, going nowhere,
The keys of the piano were shaped in her salute,
Playing the waltz with her slow-quick, quick-slow motion.
Those that have forgotten how to breathe are her only
Though she loves them alike,
In her true timeless nature.
My time here is sacred, pure.
And I am here to remain in the presence of her charm,