Sunday, April 25, 2010

the wind

Afain

I breathe you in
intoxicating scent.

hanging on a wire
proclaiming sancutary

The breeze speaks to me
and my soul feels old.
I feel ages old in this moment.

As the wind brushes my being.

i long for the west coast.
a calling. fate, or just coincidence.

location is merely where your body rests.
it doesnt entail the mind actually being there.


these words on my toungue taste bittersweet
and I am unsure of this meaning
but i write
compelled by the suns gaze

and this wind.
brushing my hair back form my sun chapped shoulders

eyes closed, taking it in
just resonating with this incredible wind

i am glad noone is watching
that this moment is mine
for me
for this moment

and I get to interpret it just for myself

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