Asking for more than the river can give

Asking for more than the river can give,

Listening to soft soul secrets that never lived,

Cold colors harmonize above pungent memories of long a-slumbered summers,

And deep beneath,

the ancient winds blossom from within,

As quiet moons rise into rustling forests,

And lonely birds behold bucolic dawn as they insure it,

Knowing as they do that we live only to procure it,

Knowing as we do that we do nothing save adore it,

Evermore can’t we restore it?