I hold my heart in high regard

it beats bold tattoos,

while my craven mind crawls into deep wells,

We are bound by convention, destinations

where the gathering human herd low in their own tongues

all over the fields

local language yields to the many,

My heart beats on towards the ancient town,

we aspire to ascend the lofty peaks

to speak with the God of the twisted pines

engage the divine

seeking destinations to flood.

Chris