My mind is lost
In the mystic land
The one I hear in yore
A legend that is now long gone!
My ear tries listening
To the trickle of clear water
Whose sound always seems to fill
The pages, in ancient tales and folklore.
My eyes are eager to see
The high and mighty mountains
Whose peak is always clad in snow
No matter, the time or fable I’ve heard.
My lungs long to breathe
The pure and pristine chill wind
That which is always spoken of in joy
In all the numerous tales that I’ve heard.
My nostrils wait to catch
That scent of sweet smelling flowers
In a valley beyond my desperate reach
Yet it torments me from behind the veils of fine art.
My senses are eager to feel
Sights, sounds and sweet nothings
Of that rustic and sleepy, old village
That which existed in stories told long ago.
My heart wants to gorge itself
On wonderful and unforgettable memories beneath that tree
Perchance love and heartache are not meant to be really felt by me
Romance and tragedy are better short-lived and lost under its shade.
The search for my mystic land continues
That which throbs inside me, but still eludes
The land that my soul sings sweet praises about
A dream that I’ve lived in – is possibly all that I will ever know!