Footmark Of Nature
My soul tastes the sweet love, still warm on my face.
It's essence, still dwells in a mystic place;
Where the whispers of wind influence my every thought,
under a spell of enrapture, which angels have sought.
It's mastery enchantment worthy only to saints,
while the fairness and splendor, only enriches earth's plaint. As I take witness to: the breezes caressing, of the old
It granted a flower of life, encompassed in a sea of sway