In the realm of a heart cored sun,
in pursuit of a life called run,
if tired and grappling with burns.
Know your time for slower turns.
Turns away from losing fights,
of greener lonesome soothing heights.
Where calming cooling zephyrs blow,
and clouds sketched in humors flow,
and see your soulful energies sowed ,
and thoughts of mistrust cleanly mowed.
Your love rekindles whatever kind.
New noble passions then you find.
Your life is your own, even though,
righteously not, If you feel it so.
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