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Description
Whichever way, look to this day’s show, What revelation lays upon it's flow, Light enough by afternoon to glide a sign, No whim of breeze nor frosted musings’ shrine, For there’s a light seen, at the end to glean, Drawn of sensitivity, such a scene, Marked of Jackdaw’s claw by half-opened gate, Enter the call heard from Nature’s dictate, Guardian of a heart flown free seeking, A land with which to settle thus speaking, To the Soul a language of tacit tone, February flies with the light of lands’ known, This is the end, where we begin to feel, A sense of life, now death no more can steal, Bruising thoughts pull through history and art, But heal the will beyond ill’s showing heart, Captivate the free to unlock the key, Turning implicitly start by degree, From the inside vistas of discovery, Truly understand deepest recovery, Now see the outer world at inner peace, This is where moods meet, with truth they release. 12 February 2015 ©Daniel Brooks-Laurent

Description
Whichever way, look to this day’s show, What revelation lays upon it's flow, Light enough by afternoon to glide a sign, No whim of breeze nor frosted musings’ shrine, For there’s a light seen, at the end to glean, Drawn of sensitivity, such a scene, Marked of Jackdaw’s claw by half-opened gate, Enter the call heard from Nature’s dictate, Guardian of a heart flown free seeking, A land with which to settle thus speaking, To the Soul a language of tacit tone, February flies with the light of lands’ known, This is the end, where we begin to feel, A sense of life, now death no more can steal, Bruising thoughts pull through history and art, But heal the will beyond ill’s showing heart, Captivate the free to unlock the key, Turning implicitly start by degree, From the inside vistas of discovery, Truly understand deepest recovery, Now see the outer world at inner peace, This is where moods meet, with truth they release. 12 February 2015 ©Daniel Brooks-Laurent