Song

A meandering wind, takes me to places I never been. I wonder if poverty creates greed, and I have never been to poverty, but somehow, I am being shown the way to go there. The night is still, except for me, I am not still in the night. I am restless, and I wonder if my restlessness is noticed by the night. Dreams escape from the ether, they now gain life in a real place, they are mattering. And so far away from me, in a different place, glory exists, it does not take itself easily, it will not subside. Glory has its pride, and is attentive and stands lateral to my movement. The song appears to have died, there was disparity between the lyric and the air. And music is alive and it thrills.