Beneath The Eastern Tree
I never attempted to court destiny, knowing her nature she would eventually make her way over to me. She takes time out of her busy schedule to send me a message once in awhile, I read it and place it in the usual pile. This last letter came after a few months of a severed connection; she said without freedom everything else is just fruitless ambition. I sent back a candid reply. Telling her, every morning I am squeezing lumps of coal trying to birth diamonds to finance the pressures of a revolution. If it wasn’t for my wife’s wisdom, refining the raggedness of my vision, I would be lost in indignation. Her time gives my thoughts a private scene for reflection, her presence in itself is like completely different location. Lock and key, that which is priceless was always meant to be hers, inescapable my inner emotions she stirs. Essential is her affection, water and oxygen they come after her smile. She walks on my left denying even my shadow any legroom; only a queen...