There awaits the Promised Land The land of our fathers, The land of our past and of a possible future Far behind the ocean, the mountain, The snow and the milkweed, The land that is yours and mine Before the pine trees shed their needles Before the milkweeds dry, the sweet nectar lost Before and before the early birds arrive It is now time to listen to the wind And it is too late to wait for the rain This is no journey, no pleasure trip No hope of returning Making us aliens all our lives With enemies in disguise all around us How will I save you from the hands of death? How will I show you the Promised Land? I am no prophet; this shaft won’t turn to a big snake The sea won’t listen to my stammering mouth Still, I wish the colors would fade away And you look beautiful only to me and not to them For, there awaits the Promised Land The land that is yours and mine
Reason for writing:
Inspired by the story of monarch butterflies that migrate thousands of miles every fall from north to south across the continental America.
Birth sign: Taurus
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