Windswept
original poetryThe wind's howl listens
To my thoughts—
It carries and scatters them
To the edge of sanity.
My mind is a windswept canvas.
My previous works, erased,
By primordial breath absorbed.
The vacuum removes me from myself
So I can stare through the nothingness
And see the illusion of my pride.
The empty vanity of survival
Is a tired chrone thinly smiling
At me across the campfire of achievement.
In my pallid hands, outstretched towards the flame
Can be discerned decisions ill and great:
The wrinkles as my sorrows shaped the same.
Still there lies a glint within the mother flesh's eyes
Which broth-like, warms the bones, renews,
And cobbles new my flesh disguise.
Placed in pyrostasis by hypnosis of her stare:
Wordless voice entoned by onrush
of the swift & fervent air.
Breath of sadness, breath of time,
Breath of aching life:
Breath that clears my cluttered thoughts,
Howling wind, elusive wife.
@d-pend