I do not yearn for the frenzied fire,
that sizzles, rages and burns.
Or bolts of lighting that streak across the sky,
scorching the air with their striking demand.
Nor do I wish for the unpredictable
excitement of color filled fireworks to light my nights
whistling, booming and crackling loud and bold.
No. I wish upon the twinkling night stars
that have steadily sung for eons,
the quiet, iridescent shine of the moon
that dependably follows her infallible cycle.
I yearn for those cooling, quite whispers of
the gentle wind, who though whimsical in her moods
is always there to breathe life into my lungs.
Give me those winds.
Jan 12, 2024
Jan 12, 2024 at 3:04 AM UTC
I do not yearn for the frenzied fire,
that sizzles, rages and burns.
Or bolts of lighting that streak across the sky,
scorching the air with their striking demand.
Nor do I wish for the unpredictable
excitement of color filled fireworks to light my nights
whistling, booming and crackling loud and bold.
No. I wish upon the twinkling night stars
that have steadily sung for eons,
the quiet, iridescent shine of the moon
that dependably follows her infallible cycle.
I yearn for those cooling, quite whispers of
the gentle wind, who though whimsical in her moods
is always there to breathe life into my lungs.
Give me those winds.