Bow In Strife

In a discerning character, born to nature's eye;
Waters onus soldiers unmottedly pass by. With the essence of void, in it's flowing manes;
The hematite glass, mirrors the stoop, it claims. Misty waves spread like wings, to transcend;
Beyond this tombstone, where rivers drowned and bend. Marking the gibbous reach, of eternity's battleground,
Where chancy perils entreatment is renowned. In a wayward time's ideal invitation:
Amending a sacred journey's dictation. The sun stained statue, stands aloof, in it's haul;
As pleading sleeves of pearled lace, affront it's wall. Ceding the burden, of a wave's tedious toil;
That bares, the ferocity, of this sandstone wall's foil. It's supremacy perching, as if, in an unruffled slumber;
Residing in a mystic haven, where sway vision's comber. Here the spirit, holds the conflict, of heart and hand;
Counter weighed, by the opaque quisling's precious land; Cradling sunshine's burns, with it's bubbling tears;
Softening it's heart, where even granite will veers. Hurling winds stir the breeze, into heated restless tide;
With duel encounters, more numbered, than history can hide. Spraying the wind's skirt, with gilt billows;
That exhale sand, in a flow of powdery pillows. Observed, and admired, in the high spirit of life;
As, this sand castle, takes it's last bow, in strife.

by Shannon M. Thompson

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