It is the land of nothing, ‘cept Godly whites.
The land of magic; the Northern Lights.
It is the land of mystery, and inspires awe.
The land in which there is no flaw.
It is the land of the Eskimo, warmed by their furs.
The land beneath which the ocean stirs.
It is the land of darkness, the light never stays long.
Accompanied, fleetingly, by the whale’s haunting song.
It is the land of pacing sentries, preparing for their war.
The land of borders and boundaries, never crossed before.
It is the land that breathes, and moves with the sea.
A giant jigsaw, the pieces of which, are allowed to roam free.
It is the land of danger, of uncertainty and fear.
The land in which nothing, but the sky, is clear.
It is the land of harshness, and few have seen.
The land free of evidence that any have been.
It is the land of stature, of custom and tradition.
The land free of cancer, a land in remission.
It is the land of knowledge, passed down through generations.
The land of stories, a mad mind’s creations.
It is the land of innocence, which time forgot.
The land of the people not affected by rot.
It is the land of icebergs, of blizzards, of snows.
It is, indeed, the land of shadows.
Dan Brown
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/land-of-shadows/
