All of life seems still
Then whirling, twirling comes the wind
With it’s wild will
We heave a giant sigh
The days and weeks pass by
With measured sun they say
Is every equal day
They all don’t seem to pass
In quite an equal way
All of life seems still
Then whirling, twirling comes the wind
With it’s wild will
We float across the stage
The minutes seem an age
The measure is the note
Each beat the same they quote
Yet movements make it seem
Some beats the more remote
All of life seems still
Then whirling, twirling comes the wind
With it’s wild will
We enter a deep stare
Ignoring everywhere
The sun will always shine
Music will fall and climb
But thoughts unmeasured go
Our thoughts transcend the time
3 comments:
Now I understand why you were so upset you left it at home today... Rachel, I am going to hit you with me non-biceps next time you say you are not a poet. Understood? :)
PS- you are no longer for definite an INTJ. you might want to change your sidebar.
thanks Katie :) Your poem is amazing :)
Oh. My. Goodness. What is all this grumping about not being a poet. I hate you. In a good way. :P
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