Earth and Poetry

 
with the  mountain i make a duo
not being harsh as you might know
but from the silence that is kept
wisely,lore and science,then i draw
 
even more emotions come touch my feel
an innate void the mountain can fill
that riddled question hurting me still
with inked word spilled thru my quill
 
i scent the jolly flower in the meads
i listen to Pan's flute in the reeds
watch the harvest tides in the field
and cicada's songs hauntingly spilled
 
i never tarry from scaning the wide flat lands
i give  the eyes the perfect vision line
'pon flat horizon, i rest the weary sight
across, i drag my eyes,for a varied view
 
 
as the rocky hills stretch far and wide
where the wolf lives by shepherds' side
where the oaks grow deep in the dry vale
where the spirit like drifting cloud, sails
 
when the human seems only dust in vain
cast upon this mortal word to be sown
but before the human soul shall vanish
leave then,the next flowers about to bloom
 
So i see the mountain the solid me
And the waters like the tender stream
While the flowers the romantic side
And earth the mother of all the poetry