Melting metal from men
Along this river bed
I lay my head
Seeing the footsteps led
By old new vagabonds dharmas true
From god and not
Theologically made up kings
Belief or not nature holds the bed where I shall rest
I will face tests that make me go mad from the men made from
metal
Shining off the sun reflecting her beauty
Revealing hidden untreked paths and such is where I write
from
Where I sit in time contemplative tomorrowing
Sitting presently awaiting truth from the silence of
introverted inspections
Where I melt the metal of men
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