Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
traces of being Apr 2018
synergy in the mist
of creations' breath...
multitudes croaking so loudly
drowning in eventide dew,

all the wind's timbre
is hushed;

overcome
by earth’s
communing symphony,
creations’ living
pulsing thrum..

alone in a crowd
proclaiming
the glory of now...

whelmed,
and i wishing
i were a frog,
and unalone
in the throng

maybe
such evolution
   as this—
   is reversing...
    Ouroboros    

touched wondrously
by spoken wind,
urgently
i need to search
for an intimate kiss

metamorphosis,
another incarnation

that will turn me
   back into a frog—

a speck of stardust
in a sky full of stars
seems better than
feeling like stardrift
ashes

a burned out candle
muted
by the gypsy choir

the call of the wild
sung in the wind




wild is the wind
©  march ― 2016

Note:   From the 1st days of spring  2016;
listening — hearing,   somethings don't change
just came in from a windy evening walk,
with a whelming sense of Déjà vu

note:   The Ouroboros often symbolize self-reflexivity or cyclicality, especially in the sense of something constantly re-creating itself, the eternal return, and other things such as the phoenix which operate in cycles that begin anew as soon as they end
traces of being Mar 2016
synergy in the mist
of creations' breath...
multitudes croaking so loudly
drowning in eventide dew,

all the wind's timbre
is hushed;

overcome
by earth’s
communing symphony,
creations’ living
pulsing thrum..

alone in a crowd
proclaiming
the glory of now...

whelmed,
and i wishing
i were a frog,
and unalone
in the throng

maybe evolution
as this—
is reversing...
ouroboros    

i need to search
for an intimate kiss

metamorphosis,
another incarnation

that will turn me
   back into a frog—

a speck of stardust
in a sky full of stars
seems better than
feeling like ashes

a burned out candle
muted
by the gypsy choir

the call of the wild
sung in the wind



*wild is the wind © march 2016

— The End —