In a field of roses
There lay a table
And on it a leather covered book
Surrounding the field
Were green colored trees
Boles of trees
That bore long ranging branches
Weeds and herbs grew around them
A thick forest
That bore a heavy air
That which was not breathable
The leathered book
As formidable as it looked
Had white pages
With several stories
Of storms that fell
Rivers that flowed
And humans that walked
At a glance they looked like fairy tales
Which were created of the past
Once walked by gods
In a deserted terrain
Every tale was written and hewn
To describe a path
Taken by the gods
A religious book
Prayed for divinity
Followed by none to its core
But prescribed by all as it was written
The rules and lettered words
When read in depth
Piecing the reality
Had no meaning
But translated by the one who read it
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