Tuesday, October 6, 2015

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.

3 comments:

  1. This is a beautiful and wise response to the image. My favorite, Michael.

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  2. I love these lines:

    "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.

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  3. There is a oneness with the sky
    That every dreamer has to find.

    I love this.

    ReplyDelete