142

...in the colours of the clouds,
carving through Winds,
I came upon a hill
of broken light and melted sand.

How could I see the fields below?

Where once walked a human being,
now rose an empty Soul
ready for the tender noose
of slavery to the Social Demands and Expectations
of people I hated.

How beautiful was the wintered breeze of Dawn.

                                                                     ...Toffears