October 8, 2009
By Anonymous

A brisk wind settles in the evening sky

The stark moonlight beats upon the furrowed landscape

Oh, how I long for the other

The other

The lone lost

It sings, penetrating the blackness

It howls

Shifting into a territory all its own

My racing mind can take it no more

Watering the sea, would it cease to be?

Oh, do not question my jumbling thoughts

For it is near

Tainted crimson, prying like an old fowl

The wailing persists

As the jumbling pervades

So settle and do not question.

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This article has 1 comment.

jaguar33 said...
on Oct. 21 2009 at 3:36 pm
interesting phrases. i like the image of the bird and the restlessness.


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