Growing farther out. Breaching green and greater walls. To bless the road with waterfalls repulsed.
Within is all the speach of dust, I am the one who sees and cannot speak. I am you. Without.
Break my stern and trusted bench for rest is for the weary. I tire only when in need of guests.
The silence, match the shadow
in the absence of my kin.
To feed the cold and suffer so
is not the depth and breadth of warmth.
Quiet the hound in sleep, for pricing, harder now for beacon lights to beacon lights. I rest.
Disquiet silenced with the wandering of the eye, to lay upon sweet shadow and rest.
Confuse the sense that breaks the will, the sigh that wanders will never rest.
Guard the rambled sense
from the strength of will.
Winter breathes new light
and warmth for all again to see.
Seek me out when paths might choose to break the will of distant cold,
now, i rest, in warmer places, that I am now sold.