Laconical
The green that shines avid in the leaf
is the spleen that refines the Red in thy Life.
The bush that abounds with little bloom
is the flesh that binds on thy skeletal frame.
The light that looms from suns of sky
is the sight that zooms from lens of eye.
The force that holds water onto this Earth
is the source that molds matter into all Birth.
The wind that grows wild from northern pole
is the kind that flows mild in breathing soul.
The word that is not spoken of and spared
is the sword that is not taken off and feared.
The flame that burns from volcanic peaks
is the same that churns from laconic sparks.
The green that shines avid in the leaf
is the spleen that refines the Red in thy Life.
The bush that abounds with little bloom
is the flesh that binds on thy skeletal frame.
The light that looms from suns of sky
is the sight that zooms from lens of eye.
The force that holds water onto this Earth
is the source that molds matter into all Birth.
The wind that grows wild from northern pole
is the kind that flows mild in breathing soul.
The word that is not spoken of and spared
is the sword that is not taken off and feared.
The flame that burns from volcanic peaks
is the same that churns from laconic sparks.