Daisies Into Chains

 

 

 

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Tears For Fears “Head Over Heels (Instrumental)”

 

 

 

 

Skimming stones down by the riverside
Remember this place from when I was merely a child
Precious little has changed
Its mystery still unexplained
Its magic fantastically famed
Still widens my eyes all the same
Howbeit, the faith which had faded away now parades pride of place reconciled

 

My heart is at peace from conflict wild
Each piece of my art offers glimpse to a fable compiled from a lost soul no longer exiled
I feel free
I feel blithe
I feel closer to nature than any one time in my life
Feel relieved to have felt every trouble and strife
Apt pupil with view to exercise scruples for every time sorrows are rife
Tomorrow no longer begged for but borrowed
From deep-dyed belief that, whatever the weather, the sun will still handsomely shine

 

Climbing the tallest oak tree I can possibly find
For all the grazed knees
I proceed without caution
Two eyes on triumph
Not one on misfortune
For the river it runs through the smile of the sun
With the moon in its diamond strewn stride
This lagoon very first to confide
Whereabouts of long forsaken reawakened inner child

 

Walking barefoot through the dune of leaves strewn far and wide before me
Tiptoeing through undergrowth more thorny
Mother Nature made it known the universe adores me
Thus, remember every thing she taught me
Searched both high and low for stars to twinkle buenos dias
Notching up the air miles of black eagle
Soared high above the clouds and all signs pointed back to ground
Found myself a haystack and then threaded eye of needle

 

Glanced back at adventures passed and offered keen salute
For trees need not retreat each time they choose to feed their roots
Whatever the endeavour, I have never been in better shape to sever any dead wood in the redwood of my brain
Open lungs to height of their capacity and actually breathe again
Feel the rain against my skin
Drink it in for it replenishes
This beverage the leverage to never give up hope
Never miss an opening to scuttle up the rope swing
With a bevvy of the very blindest faith
’69 Chevy purring gently at most heavenly of gates
Destiny awaiting
Making daisies into never-ending chains

 

 

 

Richard Charles Stevens

 

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

 

 

 

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