For all the bitterness and anguish I feel,
The sorrow, the mind afflicting emptiness against society.
Someone stands tall,
Amidst the wood lit in winter.
For the cold calls on,
Haunts the vacant fields,
Where thoughts are one with him.
There is spirit,
His might rules supreme,
Empties my mind,
Of every scornful look on my face.
Which expresses deep frustration,
When they exploit his way,
I get drawn in,
To the shallow face of iniquity.
Then I realise,
Lift my thoughts into the wind,
I am in harmony with my creator,
I am in my right place,
Burning adrift wood lit in winter.
POEM COPYRIGHT PAUL JONATHAN STOKES
ART COPYRIGHT JON HAWARD 2011