Defining content.
I am willing to accept
The bland meal before me;
There is a soothing and steadfast
Sense of joy to behold about this life,
And fruits of love are to be picked
From its limbs.
The latter resonates
And when struck,
Creates a melody to which I sway.
I sway as love drunk bees
Crawl upon my fingertips,
Amidst trees of amber.
A fleece wrapped child of revelation
Has sought me to truly sieze the
Happiness which has always
Been faithful to man.
This gift which never fleets is not
The weight upon your shoulders,
As a search for something missing,
But it is the steady breeze
Atop which you float.
The realization of its devotion to you
Unveils the valleys below, and it is a
Marvel to look to the mountains
From within the clouds.
Yes, you and I are soaring.
Follow me now to the place
Where I first awoke,
Yes, there I found myself,
In a field of dreams
And in that moment, I was free,
And I never had to be a slave no more.