The wind comes to me, caresses me, ruffles my hair, soothes my restless heart.
tonight, he rides not with Norse fury, scremaing battle.
tonight, he wails not with the Banshees, lamenting loss.
No, tonight, he walks with me, with memory, down the old garden path.
Now he raises his voice, gusts over me, rakes my teary eyes.
harsh, sweet, gusts of memory.
Now he sweeps across me with a cleansing no sleep nor shower could give.
He slows, no longer blasts across my thirsting skin.
no, he breathes now with a resigned laughter, laughs and loves.
he dances, whirls about my body,
playfully drops a dead leaf at my feet.
The sun has long since gone down, leaving me with the false glow of man-made lights; but the wind has stayed with me all this while.
No longer is he the hot air of the sin high in the sky; now, he is the breath of warm dusk, old glow spilling across that parched plain of my skin.
Old wind, he carries on him a million songs,
all I know;
I sung them with him once,
and he, tonight, finds me again with memory.
I swung with him in the heat of the morning,
I lashed with him in the gale of the storming,
And now I laugh with him at the summer's mourning.
He rustles the boughs of rememberance,
plays with a leaf as it falls.
but he, has to go soon.
And so must I;
long will I long to waltz with him again,
though each new night, the dance is ne'er the same.
Monday, March 20, 2006
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2 comments:
interesting premise, and fairly evocative. I like your characterisation of the wind.
Suggestion is to review this after a week or so, and take out the redundant bits because a lot of it appears unstructured/rambling.
adam
hahaha, i try to write unstructured for once and look what people say =P i was sitting at a park, blurbing my brains out when i wrote this. decided to post it in its raw form. but yeah, i think stanzas 5 and 6 are very rambly.
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