The Storm Of Being

10 Dec

As with the wind,
my flesh is restless
to this vain earth;
and o’er yon horizon,
swift along its edge,
it needs oft to sway
tender from side to side.

As with the rain,
my mind is as wet
in constant words;
sometimes but a mere
cold scattered mist,
yet oft vast in pelting
of some far endless tide.

And how this breath,
borne forth of some
wild, unyielding rapture,
should cast its wake
upon wind and rain,
and somehow weave
them into more steady ride.

And how this heart,
aware afore of only
a moment’s passing,
should have strength
to bridge the expanse,
and guide both wind
and rain ‘ere to dwell inside.

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Posted by on December 10, 2016 in My Poetry



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