The cold morning air breathed upon my tired eyes and awoke me to the mountainous horizon,
Shadow eyed and drifting along dreams,
I arose to the distant memory of the fall.
Disappearing into legions of stars,
My reflection was shadowed by the mirrored mist which hung upon the lake.
The trees shone through their light,
And i heard the echo of my timeless footsteps,
Which will always haunt this lapsless sanctuary.
POEM COPYRIGHT PAUL JONATHAN STOKES
ART COPYRIGHT JON HAWARD 2011
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