I sit amidst a furious wind
Under the absence of silvery eyes
The storm that lingers would thus suspend
The helpless leaf as it forcefully flies
Should that wind be one to contend
The insatiable hunger inside
The poet’s desire to willfully mend
Unto the absent moon confide
The scent of renewal in the air
The cadence of pulsating lights
The coded reply to an on-gazer’s stare
How I love these storm-filled nights
And if I could gift unto the sky
That howls in atmospheric discontent
The words which now are my reply
That this feeling shall not relent
The trees bemoan as though they filter
The harrowing cries of nature’s refrain
As though the world had slowly killed her
As though the stillness would not remain
And here I sit, enshrouded by night
As moments are slipping through these hands
Bleeding as ink and liquid delight
While shifting like ancient sands
Suddenly calm, sweet night appeased
The moment has came and went
And unto thirst has skillfully teased
For no such promise it sent
Yet I remain, solitary, bemused
Still seduced by celestial song
To yet instill this life infused
To fill the void growing strong
And unto silence fill with sound
I bid thee night, farewell
For though I feel that I am bound
It is far too soon to tell
And should this wind resume its force
And take me upon its wing
Then duly nature, take your course
In the fury that you bring
To carry me as though I am air
That brushes upon her cheek
That lovingly dances with her hair
To be what silence may speak
To accentuate my love the more
To grab what I willingly grasp
To be the one that could explore
To be the hands that tightly clasp
And travel the land until I am sea
A glimmering sight for emerald eyes
No longer you and no longer me
Merely reflections of endless skies


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Vic Robert L. Martin
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