Spring wont come, the need of strife,To struggle to be freed from hard ground.The evening mists that creep and crawl,Will drench in the dew and so drown.Im the green manThe green man.Sol in prime sweet summertime,Cast shadows of doubt on my face.A midday sun, its caustic hues,Refracting within the still lake.Im the green manThe green man.Autumn in her flaming dress,Of orange, brown, gold fallen leaves.My mistress of the frigid night,I worship pray to on my knees.Winters breath of filthy snowBefrosted paths to the unknown,Have my lips turned true purpleLife is coming to an endSo says me, me wiccan friend,Nature coming full circle.Winters breath of filthy snowBefrosted paths to the unknown,Have my lips turned true purpleLife is coming to an endSo says me, me wiccan friend,Nature coming full circle.Im the green manThe green manIm the green manThe green man
Posted on: Thu, 22 Jan 2015 10:15:03 +0000
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