calm
The storms combust over my head
In retribution and watery wrath.
They put me to sleep in my bed
And give my gardens a little bath.
How the winds do push and pull
Easing me along the world's current.
Its melody is twisted, old, beautiful,
controlled by strings, bought and spent.
There is a oneness with the sky
That every dreamer has to find.
And though I have no hope to fly,
Here my spirit is far less confined.
The heavens call with each drop,
Like little prayers whispered low.
There are forces at work I cannot stop,
And finally Ive learned to let them go.
This is a beautiful and wise response to the image. My favorite, Michael.
ReplyDeleteI love these lines:
ReplyDelete"here are forces at work I cannot stop,
And finally Ive learned to let them go."
Sleep is such an act letting go, and dreams such an act of taking hold. You've really covered a lot of ground in these few lines. I like it very much.
There is a oneness with the sky
ReplyDeleteThat every dreamer has to find.
I love this.