Carelessly treading, on the soft ferns,
Stamping on dirt, and loose corns.
Walking in the night of eeriness,
The heavy air and the windy stress.
On a distant land, at a distant time,
Among the hoods of the jungle rhyme,
A light, brighter than the brightest sun,
Soothing for the eyes, a lovable fun.
A warmth, redeeming the soul,
A touch, caressing us whole.
In the midst of misjudged strife,
Among the thorns of life,
Stood a bonfire that shivered
In my blood, glowing, not quivered.
Gave me chills in the heat of course,
I understood, the words hardly morose.
Spoken in depth, spoken so fine,
That beneath the shattered heart, lies a dime.
No matter how poor, no matter how much diseased,
There settles a bonfire in every life and the deceased.
Which speaks in the earthly tone,
Buzzes up and down in the mind like a drone.
That no matter how broken you are,
No matter how much happy songs are far,
You are not the bubble in the foam,
But, still the strong King of Rome!
(Image courtesy: DarkMoon by Marta Syrko, DeviantArt)