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Austin Sill Nov 2013
The winds of leave are calling me,
                    to walk away from here,
To enter in, a blowing leaf,
                    to enter in with fear,
And fear is not a frightful word,
                   when we give it to the wind,
For the wind it speaks a perfect word,
                     to bring us home again.

So haste the day to heed the call,
                      for it comes from deep within
And swirls its voice around us all,
                     as a shrill, unyielding wind.
Remember last, the storms that passed,
                     as you step into the flow,
For soon the bell tolls for us all,
                     when there is no choice to go.

And so then fear becomes our cloak,
                     and the wind becomes our guide,
And tarry not from fear's great yolk,
                     nor from the howling cry.
The storm it treads just overhead,
                     shedding darkness like a wall,
Still, shut your eyes, seek not the light,
                     but hear the winds great call.

Although the dark will leave its mark,
                    stay tuned to hallowed sound,
and hold to fear, for in the dark,
                    in fear, can trust be found.
Published in The West Wind, Fall 2013, a literary journal at Azusa Pacific University.
Austin Sill Nov 2013
THE day had set as I traveled down a road,
Intimate in its design, ‘twas narrow,
directed toward the setting, golden Sun,
which, softly glowing, slowly came to rest
upon the darkening valleys of this world.
The road was long yet well supplied with fuel,

or, signs were scattered pointing towards the fuel,
‘twas the duty of the rider on the road
to refuel lest he be lost in the world.
Yet as I rode my eyes began to narrow,
losing sight of signs 'til my coach did rest,
still, as I lost my pace set with the sun.

There, still, I sat and lost sight of the Sun.
Alone, I did not think to seek out fuel,
but I looked elsewhere for a place to rest.
In utter darkness I wandered from the road
into a wood, welcoming, less narrow
and filled with mysteries of a whole new world.

My heart pounded as I entered this world.
By now my mind, had but slipped from the Sun,
and it's warm glow on the road, (too narrow).
I was not limited by need of fuel,
like I had to work for on the narrow road,
But vices here offered me so much rest.

So deeper I wandered to seek out rest.
Rest, that would fit me best within this world.
In darkness there, out of view of the road
in dark, I felt the cold absence of Sun,
and there... I ached. My body called for fuel.
I looked options not so narrow

as they were upon the road, (so narrow).
But, as I took my fuel and found my rest
in the wood... I ached as I ate the fuel.
Still I craved more, it hurt. Trapped now in this world
that seemed more like a cage. And for the Sun
I longed, as I remembered its warmth on the road.

So there I sit entrapped within this world.
I have the key and I can sense the Sun,
But..could I, now, return to that narrow road?
In the form of a Sestina
Austin Sill Nov 2013
Gentle night, flower of life, roots ever searching
digging deep, sharp and broken, as the air grows course.
Wind takes flight, cuts like a knife, into pedals ever fading
and light creeps, skies silver token, lays shadow on remorse

Deepest dark, ferocious front, stem in desperation.
Holding fast, roots lacking anchor, hastened futility.
attempt to hark, become unbent, to find a foundation.
Broken mast... falsified fervor, the roots then release.

Wretched skies, horrid freedom, uplifted in darkness.
Lost direction, wrapped in chaos, fighting no longer.
Cast aside, wind dies down, landing on pages.
Found protection? trapped when lost, in the spine, now stronger.

— The End —