Sown on the mountain top,
Germinated to this aura,
Knitted by the Loop.
Unable to lay asunder,
The gap between the firmiment and the horizone.
From within I smother,
With passion and desire.
That the world be mine.
The World is surely mine.
From ages mountains burnt,
Forging Finely the plains.
All on the Heath I to tame,
The fields I to Rose.
Plains Tamed,
Fields Rosed,
They ooze enticing romance,
Of how the World's mine.
Surely, the World is mine.
The Words hoovers High,
Without a Sigh,
Shadowing all the neighs,
From mine own ears.
For All I hear is, it is mine.
The world is surely Mine.

© engleberttbruce