Deserted

Where are the wings I flighted on

Where are the flaps I peddled on

When of fire water arrives

Burst drops relations lost.

To understand the silent hizz

of catastrophic breezes that kiss

one needs to wander in the

valleys of violets of life

Nay does the sunshine glare

into the times of thunderous storms

But for you should learn

to walk with lights of lightnings . .

if ever you are to breath.

Darwins born every second within

would guide and bring in

paths of mays . .

All you need may be again

the nonsense of commonsense

to live on and on and on . .