The long arm of spruce
Cradled in the womb of the ocean
Nestled in many mountains
This fjord of majesty
.
Where many spirits travel
With questions unknown, seeking
At the beginning and ending…
Of the trail
.
Wrong and right with opinions, suffering
What is this hidden truth, this way to be
What is this lie holding firm, belief
When acting as a mystery
.
May the One Truth…
Stay the hand of war
As we forgo the first fruit
And taste of life once more
.
In the tunnel of the glacial valley
Settled soil and game providing
Giving as each has need
Imagining love abiding, a fantasy
.
Good to be home, crying
“What am I suppose to be!”
Loving life and dying
crippled in reality
MindWorld 