The Rennaissance

The hardness of the mountains
the bleakness of the country
and the cold, all are reflected in
my hearts somber beats.

More by the loss of a rich and
romantic beauty.
Than the gain of a weathered
soul and heart.

Eroded yet still as new and
beautiful as ever.
Changed but not destroyed
Each mark moulding and reconstructing

The rennaissence begins . . . .

Karl Smith © November 1986.