No Wand Poem by Zealous White

A house set on the hill
transparent, glassy and crystal, Gifted and talented,
not untill the sinister wind come. It pool the ruff with high speed and inflict the plank with termites,
the children in hatred the house in which i belong.
I have wonder in the hill like a magician without a wand in the field of power.
Wonder in the valley like an importent man seeing the nakedness of the wife.
Wander wand wonder dreams seal like a block in pacific ocean: now in distress like ostrich in saharah desert during hamattan, but bold like turtist in snake quarter.
Wondering wanderer cloth like a madman in the bolder of sun and hell,
brutalise and dehumanise.
All hope lost, no relief of pain.
Pain gnawing down my throat in the illuminating darkness with a good smile of weeping.
Thought stole by nightingale for the meloydy of the melancholy.
The wanderlust
my eye havnt get off the sky, thats a shot cut to my Author and Redeemer.
The offspring lost their hope on me
but when the block will boost, the see cannot deny the sound.
Cut me off prematurely if the seal will be till the end.