Natures illness
Alone one stood
in defiance of the network
she spoke with the ease of the
prodigal needs which face us all in hate
we once were proid who dwell
on earth, we scourged the ocean
blue. I am a folly to the decks
i want not what is due
it has been said that men may
die to face the raging fire
But i behold when we are
old we shall but tread the evil tide
Many are the beaches on which
it sits - the putrid silence
what, stay behind? nay - i shall
be the lesson to the valley of the soul
- they must know the price for
playing with the toys of despair
Let it be known - our kin shall
hold we have a common goal:
to drink the water crystal clear,
and breathe the purest air
A selection, chosen by Lyd: