Creator

'Neath a shrouded midnight star,
Blinded by the blackened road,
Riding endlessly and far
Where the wind is hard and cold,
By the river, long and deep,
Where the wicked willows blow,
Ill with pain and wanting sleep
Where the frozen waters flow,
Rider of the raging sea
Roamer where the rivers roll,
Weaver of eternity -
Guardian of my own soul;
Wrapped within the wings of time,
Captured by a quiet curse,
Bounded by the ruthless rhyme
Of a cruel universe;
Lone upon a mountain slope,
Or barefoot in the valley streams …
I am the holder of my hopes,
I am creator of my dreams. View the rest of this article