Word Smith

Clever was the wind that shaped the landscape.
Hills and valleys rolled into canyons and onward into trickling streams, rivers, seas and ocean waves.
Ice burgs crashed into
mounts that held up the clouds and they the heavens.
I walked though the fields that day in solitude imagining them filled with graceful souls holding hands and spreading joy throughout the lands, bringing angels voices to non believers.
Concievers becomming their true selves wearing their best outfits and glorifying their walls with such beauties and trinkets that they could imagine possible in the next life and there the next.
Then I laid down and asked God to talk me to sleep for his world was so beautiful my own thoughts did weep but my body was week from the passing of time so much so now that the bird song didn't rhyme.
Then home again caged to safety in need but want was upon us and in want was greed for my eyes closed a moment wasn't nearly enough. I longer for forever in silent clear musk.