Sunday, 18 September 2016

musing on ideas in Zarathustra

Dry your eyes, there's no use in crying
we all live under the moon at night
were wolves howl and nightmares roam
that is until the flaming sun comes out
bringing life renewed to those who wander 
like scared animals being hunted we hide
praying for one last day to feather our nests
before our bodies decompose under moss covered trees

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