It is just a passing storm

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I Sleep out on the Moors

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I sleep out on the moors
Under the thick canopy of faraway islands
Shimmering golden against
The black tunnel
Of fear and wonder.

I sleep out on the moors
Searching for my eyes amongst
Constellations that have not yet
Taken form.

I sleep out on the moors
Listening to brooks tick-tocking
In circles under lime stones,
And dryads, aged into stone,
Choraling with the wind.

I sleep out on the moors
With tall trees swaying gently
To the deep humming
That makes up the soundtrack
Of Life.

I sleep out on the moors
Even though, there are people
Looking for me, and there is
A sea falling from glaciers,
I sleep out on the moors…