Poem #1

Be what wise was once was not
Enraging mighty mountain tops
Till skys are clear of fading shot
When stalkings cease and huntings stop

Exsists a shell of pining core
Entranced in dance of reasons for
No one is home, of this I'm sure
Was but a dream and nothing more

Have seeneth you the rising sun?
Are sense and thought but cunning pun?
The anwser sleeps beneath my tounge
Still proving what is done undone

Sequential mirrors breaking lines
Essential sequence to our times
Exactly be most vaguest kind
No fear for real is state of mind