Norway
Woe to those without mind over matter
Trapped within familiar number-worlds and craving,
Desiring, lusting for answers, only to develop flatter
Ideas of the wilderness braving.
For I have more than I need, upon Nature's platter
Of mystery, endurance in the stags of brazen behaving
And leaping and crowning, the waters they shatter
As the glassy complexion of the crisp river glazing.
To those men with a tick and those women with a tock,
With, instead of earth, crisp letters in hand,
Take my hand, oh please, and we can wind back the clock
To a time and place, within a better, sweeter land –
The daytime, the Summer, pinched to colour with rich sprout,
Blooming upon the sweeping fjords, sweeping with the breeze.
The night-time, a spectacle, none see now but the trout
Of a river above a river, blue, green hues, floating above the trees.
The Winter dusts the landscape in clouds of white; how about
You take that white, compare it to your letters, please,
And see – can't you see – the world you flushed out?
Only with those actions, might my mind be put to ease.
Do you wonder for a moment, when away from the flock
Mentality, the origin of this letter, though within dry sands
And barren, rusty high-rise – or do you mock
This letter, ignorant and naïve, instead for its demands?
Come with me! Take my hand! I will sing to you a time
Of harmony and balance, and will paint for you a place
Of natural beauty, where a jingle in the wind will chime
In your ears, away from this metal world, a fallen disgrace.
I will take you to the land of the midnight sun
Where we will merge with the world, merge into one.