The Sight Of What You Feel, It Sould Be Gripped Poem by James McLain

I have been redeemed by all of you and being the leastmost
amongst you, have reminded you to travel deeply there into.
Past the edge of the tree's, there where it's dark, until
that certain light that shines on you returns.

The leaves on the bushes here are Stark, crimson with
hue's of Violet, purple and pink a rose, up unto in where,
one vine upon the ground to her is known, it is large
every sound from twin lips murmur, warm, moist and soft,
in breath, my dear.

It is only then that,
a snake comes out when the sun settles down, around the crown
of the tallest of tree's.

This is where a cold fire burn's,
wafting out into the deeper crack's as the column of smoke
disappears.

Such as that as a shadow draws, moving up and into the mouth
of the clear stream,
there where the forest melt, two strangers meet,
between the bush filled Hill's, high up above where two lover's
came to meet.

Here where two single paths that meet a past not seen.
Here where you belong ahead two meet and dream.
Here where other's come from over head, they pass the watch.
Here where dream's not being seen, have come to pass.
Here where two came to be as one, two dream's to be realized.