THE OUTSKIRTS OF WILDERNESS
On the outskirts of wilderness lies a forgotten dream.
Dreamt in the depths of unconsciousness hidden within a scream.
High amidst the broken evergreens flies a lonely eagle.
Twisted and taunted and blasphemed he comes amongst the people.
In between every word and thought
falls many spaces in which we’re caught.
But when the bluebird takes its winging then life is not for naught.
On the outskirts of wilderness lies a forgotten dream.
Dreamt in the depths of unconsciousness hidden within a scream.
The rope was lifted in despair and sold, by devil’s bought.
They lifted us up in the air and brought us to the bringing.
Certain captions of bitter blue were thrown into the mire.
Open hearths were left not swept bringing forth a brilliant fire.
As the many fantasies that were never dreamt
we lifted up through these broken trees which lied amidst the depths.
So as the picture describes the scene we symbolized the wicked
as dwarfs with horns and painted teeth with funky clothes and hair unkempt.
Silver knights will march against the cross and bring about the demon
whom all will carry through the moss into the winter season.
Certain visions of ice-cold blue will kindle cones of pine so crudely.
Bursting forth in brilliant fire with pure desire.
On the outskirts of wilderness lies a forgotten dream.
Dreamt in the depths of unconsciousness hidden within a scream.