Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Fate, Are We Clouds Shaped

Fate, are we clouds shaped,
bent and rolling by the mere blowing of the wind?
Of hardly any substance, just enough
might we catch a sight,
a lieu till another form assumed anew?
Say, can we not, "No,
I will not go with thee, O Wind, I defy
direction, for a different path I intend to run!"
Can we not hold back when
a temperature high or low must incur
the substance of our lives to spew in a dance?

Let me hold my energy from thee,
O Land, do not call forth your lightning hand
snatching my inner strength till I am nothing.
I search tragically over this terra's girth
for answers that are hidden lore:
to expose the birth and death of this aging cosmos.

Why must I
be an endless pattern in the sea,
hints of myriad movements,
dry wetness in the sky.

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