This is my letter to the world,
Confusion crawling from behind cloud of Forgotten--
Kissing my Cheeks, glowing on desolate branches.
A cycle of Emotions as trees scarlet, plummet, only to chartreuse once more.
Weightless starlings creeping towards your Ear,
Pumping your Legs, flapping their wings,
Pushing against societal constraints and Truth—
Nest of Familiarity strewn about, sprigs fluttering.
Rationality replaced with faltering stars,
Moon waxes and wanes, controlling the flow of Tide—
Pure ease, crashes the salt obediently against shore,
Patiently, rhythmically waiting for Disorder.
Pad prints you stomped in virgin snow
Temporarily show possession—Sun will return.
Exhale bitter puffs of life in shadowy dens—
Only to feel Home again.
—amw
1 comment:
On this day I must bid my aristocratic counterparts farewell. I shall not go into detail of what has driven me to such action, but it was the topic of Gary’s speech. I have authored a brief, might you say, rebuttal, which can be read here.
Jane Austen (48)
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