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.
This entry was posted in Green Poetry, Spirit. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s