Pick on strand whichever
no judgement,
there is no time
then let the stream know
your song, nothing too
stays for long.
Let a forest hear,
birds dance and rocks bear
its signature.
There is no god who dwells
in isolation,
blue of sky, green of earth
we die each day
alone in mirth
making stones our spears
and mist our shield
keeping our fight and fears
in sight.
Hear to wind's whispers
of ancient and distant,
and risen high on trees,
stream of spring.
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