Far

The cones and pines on a tree,
Dropped to the temperate sands,
From levels of unseen heights,
Simply parted to my please,
Undoubtedly wondered on perusal,
The thoughts of the perseverance queen,
In agony of the sea,
Overwhelmed by the anguish kings,
For kings of heavens in palace,
Seeking the heart of the pine,
Dropped from its land,
Of supposed joy and pride,
Yet foretold innocence,
Bygone by myths,
Unproven with malicious intentions,
Proven with the lioness songs,
Bled to death,
But death is too far.