Just silent fortresses, on the edge of time,
Pure running waters, no clocks to chime,
Leaves float through the wilderness, and then sink………
In the dream streams.
Satan’s house is empty, good old country Dave!
Harvesting their shades of green,
Autumn jugglers played,
Wind sweeps through my overcoat; I’m drowning, in the dream streams…
The silence of the lowland fields, the chapel on the hill.
The old road where all that passed is dead,
Has gone to do God’s will,
I walk into the sunset, fooled by illusions tools,
Fools on the horizon, nothing but fools, fools fools, in the dream streams….
This was originally a song, the lyrics read as a poem so, I put it forward for your consideration. The song will one day appear on www.RichardHarker.com,
Peace & Love to all my readers, Chris Pitts