The life that oozes out in small strips of minutes often gathers courage, braces up, chugs, and starts a soft run home... and then the wind blows. Time heals old wounds and makes ways for new ones to grow... and then the wind blows. In hurried glances, I look at those who chose to stay behind, ensuring that they stay there... and then wind blows. Every time I have a page inked, I turn a new leaf to begin anew, and the wind blows. Every time I keep the beads aside and chose to bury the dead, the wind blows!
I know I have been busy I have been busy digging Little pits in shifting sands By a choppy sea, and waiting For my little dreams To form puddles in my living And slowly watch its walls collapse Into itself Water to Water Sand and all Amidst the roaring of the waves And the silences Of the droopy willows Crying In the falling rain
Wonderful, as always! "And then the wind blows..." The wind never leaves anything alone.
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