The wind it whistles away
as I drift through the sky.
I see fires, pines, and pires
with bracken, muck and mire.
The light shines brightly
and my shadow is shrinking.
Smell the fire upon the pire
and waiting for me to expire.
My time has not yet come
Yes, death shall have to wait–
The wind, the water and the fire
the bracken, the thicket and pire
For I am over an ocean
and I can learn how to swim.
{Christian Kane}
Note: written for a friend in turmoil.
Recent Comments