My Yoke

The weight of the world upon my shoulder
is a burden makes me feel much older.
But the feel of Gaia at my side
makes my Spirit swell with pride.
I choose to stand beside the trees;
not brought by a system to my knees.
Forests, trees and mountains high
will guide my Spirit to the sky
and there among the ‘other folk’
at last I’ll shed guilts final yoke.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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