Fools! they call...
and Fools they may be!
Hours are wasted
but could never pick him out
in a crowd.
Day in and day out
through the people,
and spirits,
The vast land of the rich
the privelege escapes him.
He wipes the pollen of his shirt
and walks on, no set pattern
leaving logic behind him
and flat nothing in front.
Leave no trace of where your going
but remember where you have been.
Waves of people stare
short wisps of whispers
linger on the air.
Drink to the new life, of cadence and love.
The masses of people call to him from afar
to give up and turn back, even though he is this far.
Violent in nature,
the perceptive beats roar.
They beat their war drums.
and run wild, and dissedent to all
compassion and trust.
Truth like acid, are fed to the children.
Incest of the mind, the man hums to himself.
and the steps to heaven
are slowly removed, one by one.
The clouds point the direction
where the young man will walk
His mind on his sleeve,
and step rhythm unbroken.
Choose to be alive, and live to be free
Shards of time shoot in every direction,
Lucky to men, the conciousness is revived.
One might realize that distance like moss
grows and grows... and never stops.
And the wise man will say, to love is to live.
Knowledge and wisdom, speak often and bashfully.
Red faced and withdrawn, mankinds fate is known.
To live is to love, and to live is to be free
Follow the man, and you may see
and new world in a garden, a face in the sand,
all point in the direction of
the dreaming man's land.
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Submission Name: Dreaming Man's Land
