+ le philosophe et la reine +

When nature is all you have growing up,

you learn to appreciate it's beauty.

From every crickets call

to every shard composing a dragonfly's wings.

We are one with the breath of nature.

The fragility of every fleeting moment

carving it's remedial notion into every heavy heart.

Every song conducted from the manna of the trees.

But none of it came close to her.

That beauty who bathed in the blood of my sins.

My Aurora Borealis; a sight never unseen.

My Queen of the moshka constellations.

I've spent my whole life

searching for those rainbow waterfalls of Panthalassa oceans.

Those beautiful waters of blue and white.

But, I only found her scent

engrained into every aspect of those miracles.

A ghost in the wistful oceans of red,

the birdsong breaking of dawn.

Her beauty cast the world into screaming colour -

energising monochromatic wavelengths into a spectrum of grandeur.

And now she is the black sap

of Mother Earth residing in my blood.

This dead poetry;

drawn from the essence of her Hadean creation.

Come taste the wine of an orchids dew with me,

before the stem wilts into ashen ground.

Write with the Philosopher's hand.

Come race the Archaean sunrise with me.

Delve into Gaian oceans.

Swim in the constellations of the falling skies.

Rule the divine nebulae,

the world will know our tale.

Spoken in every wind,

in every daffodils tongue.

For I promise that within the voice of the folklore forests,

we can be Gods for evermore.