Wise poem
 

The four winds blowing through my hair
looking upon god with his son in the air
Angels are as free / speeding in the light
My wish is to see / freely in the night
Mighty as mars with a hint of riches
Aiming at the gods with mans petition
Much is done with books after the stones
Mixtures of planets in the sea of poems
Power in the hand of a soldiers salute
This is to be passion in the generals troops
Do your feet lead you down a way of hope
...of course...
Do the terrestrials channel souls in their host
These minions have reptilian needs
You can see that they bleed heavily greed
The source where all power comes from
The point when the seed and sound growth is one

/ means to pause