As I Stare at White Potential 

It is only fitting . . . .
That my heart should reach towards the sky.
For in due time, time will tell.
As I stare at White Potential . . . .
It. . . . Prepares to erupt!
And to form a new world.
Pace yourself.
But be prepared.
For the butterfly birds guard their sacred treasure.
And the natives, bow at my hearts doorstep.

It is only fitting . . . .
That my soul should see that land become sea.
For in due time, time will tell.
As I stare at White Potential . . . .
I begin to write about the hope,
That is being created.

Peace is its name.
RAD is its master.

Robert Alexander Deason          Peace

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