• A BeatenPlace

    When common sense is gone
    and days have flown far past.

    While life measured in greed,
    sits, ponders, laughs.

    Who answers to the fury,
    mother spirit's lambaste.

    Where have gone the dreams,
    missing is our mast.

    Why don't I sing,
    the whippoorwill may ask.

    How can I sing,
    as all the world lies flat.