Purple dreams

A bent thought about the forest,

men live not but out of closet,

to bring forth the shadows of pyre,

built and lit on the boulders of desire,

now of conscience when left refuses the right,

and the heavy propelled thoughts fall with might,

to bring a new the social order,

calamitous and warring disorder

 

I tell her why the land is fertile,

she comes out in dismay to sterile,

the land and her womb where nothing grows,

because she pulls the thoughts to her brow,

and sells the home only to marvel deep and sow,

the fancy of clouds that hang and go.

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