Sunday, May 10, 2009

I'll Be Waving My Hands

Taken aback and shaken
molten lava comes emotion,
calming sense to self convince
the wheel that's sat in motion.
Storm on short horizon
sky is changing, shifting, blowing,
all the while this thought revile
the tide that's ebb and flowing.
Swallow hard and choke it down
these blades do cut and slide,
easier pill to heart reveal
in search of what survived.
Softly simmer shortly
tears of anger slow subside,
push it down to sink and drown
that flood on once relied.
Trust the wind that's coming
find no future in resisting,
feet in sands of what's in store
from storms that keep persisting.

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