Guitar's Cry
Disciple of Pan
WAITING FOR SCORPIUS
At days end, I shiver
The vision of the cold moon,
Is but a sliver--
A scimitar in the East.
A dim haze hangs in suspension;
The air of deep afternoon
Contemplation.
A philosophical feast!
Here, I feel uplifted
In some strange and euphoric swoon.
I have drifted;
My creative heart released.
At days end, I shiver
The vision of the cold moon,
Is but a sliver--
A scimitar in the East.
A dim haze hangs in suspension;
The air of deep afternoon
Contemplation.
A philosophical feast!
Here, I feel uplifted
In some strange and euphoric swoon.
I have drifted;
My creative heart released.