no surprise, I could see it coming.
The pursuit of power was my dream but now I know that fame is not synonymous with success.
Work no longer is a challenge
lost its thrill and cutting edge
more money doesn't fulfill my needs
it only serves to feed my greed.
My soul wants to move on
and my spirit longs to soar
high above to the next level.
Grown weary of the thriving metropolis
the peaking decibels of noise,
the harried frenetic pace of life,
the inescapable stench of pollution,
the deceived, enslaved people
all working on their image control
while the lusty lure of temptation
and the cloak of paranoia abound.
Longing for the earthy aroma of rich farm land,
the taste of cool, fresh spring water on my parched lips,
the golden rays to tan my wanting face
the feel of soft green grass,
the potpourri of wildflower perfume,
ancient trees,
majestic mountains crouching below billowy skies
the cries of wildlife
and the inescapable light of the yellow moon.
Wage war against the spirit of discontent
return to that place of solitude and safety
breathe the cool, crisp morning air of freedom
bask in the baking warmth of summer southern sunshine
bathe in cleansing cold pelting drops of a drenching downpour
become one with nature again,
and again
be accepted for the content of your character
rather than the color of your skin
and measure wisdom by the number of years
rather than by titles or degrees.
© Lunarmax 2001 All Rights Reserved
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