Once I wondered,
What is it like to know somewhere,
Other than this dark place.
And pondered :
What if life could shift its axis?
Finding myself up there,
Among the fog and clouds.
In a different air.
Where The Winter Wind,
Would blow and blow my hair.
What a scene!
Not as pleasing,
As the one of 1818.
But good enough,
Given what I've so far seen.
No stick will grace my right hand,
And I'll stand naked,
The wind upon my bare skin,
No thoughts out, no thoughts in,
Just me, the clouds, and the scene—
Of the highs and lows which through I've been.
But for now,
Let me hum with ʾĀmīn.
Not Amen ,
For the God I belive in,
Is the one and only.