The wind, the wind, that wind;
That maddening,
Howling
Wind, stoking
Fires in your ears and
Driving your legs (left,
Right left) catching
Cheeks and buffeting your eyelashes; digs
That rope deeper, deeper
Into your skin.

Feel

The wind and grip

The earth with your feet, rip
Slowly,
Almost
Soft
At the fresh earth and
****
Deep, hard:
Breathe, and dig.

The wind, tearing
At your eyes ---squinting,
Over the clouds you
See the coronation of the sun ---
And battering your body, whispering
Soft musings
Midst the howls and the thunder --
Straining, hear
The voices, hear the song --
And that rope,

Pulling

You,

Attached to the clouds and threatening
To tear you into the open sky the
Maelstrom -- but
Maybe, just maybe, in its eye
You'll find peace you
Hear it tongue in your ear -- and

Listen

To the crackling and the breaking
Of trees and the far distant shouts and
Hear
The whispering and

Remember

Ulysses lashed to the mast
To listen to the sirens and
Grit, grind your teeth and drive
Your legs (one step
At a time, its there
In front
You're sure) and
Drive,
Drive
Drive with all
Your might against
That eternal ******* sky
To the clearness of the blue
And stillness of a night just beyond
Your vision, right past
The gold rimmed evening of a yesterday, right
In front of you in that foggy
Tomorrow that may never come, drive
Your feet and grit
Your teeth and

Revel

For a moment

In the song of the muses.