Blue Euroclydon

Lust  in the insanctity  of  mid-air,
And followed by the craving sounds of calls,
Perplexity  in the heavens,
As  nature  sounds  equate.

Neglecting  the  Pauline's  language,
And  preparing  Babel's   tower.
Ancestoral  sounds  decided,
As  hovering  sounds  of  wind seems  ruling.
Blue  wind  seems  occupied,
Even  pleasure pleasing  pull to  it's  plain.
Uncertainty for  direction,
In  time  fading  for  survival.

It's  been a  long  run  for  a  stand,
Gossipers  in mid-air  street  still  narrates   the  play.