Is't my desire,
to finally inspire,
a revolution in the heart of thee.
From wills within,
may heaven spin,
it's evolution of the blooming tree.
On planes and rays,
across sails and cayes,
may winds of change leave a trace.
In the song of the lark,
and a moment too dark,
may the light cast upon your face.
Under the spell of time,
an imposing rhyme,
shall complete this thought to soon.