during the early hours of spring
comes the almost rhythm like sound of the birds returning to roost
pattern like in their lives
relatable to those around them as if they along with the rest were part of a song that was never to have had an ending
a tune only ending in the quiet motion that only a few creatures were ever given the privilege of knowing
an open secret left that some were only truly aware of
JE LEEST
Crossing the dark moon
PoëzieIt is up to every man to choose what path they follow. Whether it be in fairness or out of spite, the choice is up to the individual at the end of the road
