Untitled yet

Deception speaks a whisper to me
and blows my hair abound.
Gazing through the shadowed glass
to dance upon the creation of life.
Desperately wanting to hold it in my hands.
Shrewed about the painting a lifeless
cast made of me.
A glimpse of the future i did see,
a world full of turmoil and destruction.
The heron sang a lonely song
of death upon my mother.
Green with envy and filled with
blue crystal.
Mountains a far
Her creation lives and never dies
reborn into this world.
Mother Earth held her hand
and with a wand she made the land.
To her I pray for good fortune
to her I pray deception never speak
a whisper to me.