The Soul Of Mother Nature

The Soul of Mother Nature transcended the earth with nurturing mannerisms as is her way when it comes to sprouting up the bonsai tree from her own mouth.  The storm she brought about embraced the heart of the tree and its surroundings with an evanescence of the maze succumbed by hope and truth igniting a blazing fire underneath the very core of her being.

I count the ways in which the thunder speaks its laws to her rivers flowing with Godly tears that learned to suppress the fire that builds within her temperament.  Only the Lord can understand the fire that burns in her heart.  For there is dust and leaves scattered about her uneasy body of earth that fights to sustain itself in the masses of unholy graves.

They speak to my heart through their winding roads that lead me into the towering inferno that burns up in feverish skies black as coal.  Their ashes faze me out of my isolation where I fed on a tyrants herb, dwelling in every enraptured skull that drives man mad with desire for the thunder to strike down the bonsai tree that covers up his driven spirit that bogs down all that is holy.

For how can I embrace the sun when his fire consumes me, and tears apart all that stands in the path of its brewing storm that threatens to destroy its melancholy dreams.  I burn amongst the mystics who follow in their grievances, if only for a short while.  However, I must move along down the path, even though my fields are flooded by raging waters.

All I can encompass is what lies within me, brought about by a Higher Power.  I elongated all your streams, but the food for thought you leave behind is unnerving to my soul, because it’s shreds by your sharp tongue.  You are the twister that melts into the bold horizons, but you never speak without your fire that bombs away on my spirit.

I’m overcome with the folly that threatens to destroy my mind in the midnight hours burning inside of my lonely dreams.  For these visions are my bed that dispel their grief when the sun also rises out of the ashes of time’s door.  Heavenly is my chamber that keeps my wake at the tides of festering tears that wash over me in my essence of belonging.  However, it’s the hour of your mirth that holds me at arms length whenever your credence of laws deems it be so.

No matter how long I have to wait to be free of this brigade that threatens to embark me on a journey of the fist, I won’t allow you to tease the tides of my fate, and leave me broken along the shores of regret.

For if only the rivers burns me with melodious franchises that harbor their way into my heart, if only to become guard over fateful winds that blow with ease across the Asian countryside where the bonsai tree continues to grow in strength and in wisdom.

© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015

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