Be it Nature

I wrote this in the wee hours of the morning surrounded by such a beautiful setting.

Succulent fruit knows not its path

Opious only to the snail.

With fragile hide it heightfully hail,

A slated sky all striken wrath.

 

Forth poureth florist in light now,

A lay his life amongst the ground.

Often supple soothing soft sound,

Procrast rain how with lofty bow.

 

Descent from palace sky so quick,

Run towards with fear that stars may fell.

Coagulate on ground made slick,

Too beat low drones on round the bell.

 

Thy swelling tide now passes fine,

While cancer steps in sliding way.

See rock whilst wet as homage pay;

A toll of imagation stein.

 

In heart of mind there dwells a soul

An oddity of creed's dead list.

Lay stead the working bowels of mist,

Who hides a dove in bosom ole.

 

Doth night inspire visions lay waste

Cause thought was known sush that now soar.

Image made true in lo some deep base,

Of black and blue a valley pour.

 

Observe desp'rate yet deathly crab,

Beckoned forward by clean bright moon.

Who cling with claws to life so drab,

A boist'rous lust for time to croon.

 

Moon's God lye shields her from the dawn

Soon creep and seep they lust'rous stare.

Be crab in love with lust so dare,

Aphrodite entices fawn.