The Voice Of The Wind
Do you feel it, the poor wind has grown old
My former state clear as truth
Yet greedy hands color me slate
Look to a ravaged sky and see the proof
This is what happens when beauty is placed on progresses plate
Its progress like this
The selfish the greed the hate
I am choaked my friends are caged
Beauty and love will leave this world
As surely as we all see it time doth age
It is known that soon time will cause all that was and is to be come curled
Then perhaps if time begins again beauty as pure as it was when it first began will unfurl.
And I will breathe again