a mantra of sorts

Let the blue blood in my veins
rain down to the seas
wash away my sins of green
and from that soak-ed green
let purity grow
and innocence blossom
from its roots.
Water ignorance with truth
and grow knowledge;
shower darkness with light
and let the death of the night
bring the warmth of the morn
and stark immortality
with the white of the sun.
Let me breathe with the wind
and my spirit
sway with the swallows
and dance with the deer.
Let my feet fall lightly
upon the grass so bare.
Where sky meets field,
let innocence run free,

run free,


run free.