The wind cries eternal faith to the eye that sees

The fruit of god, here for her to put it her mouth and emanate dreamlike fantastic aparent matter.

With love painting a picture so real.

All my desperate faith floating in the chaos looking for ghosts of my lover in the old house haunted by my ego..

We reach the top of the mountain.

Vincent Silvertop

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/we-reach-the-top-of-the-mountain/