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| picture source: https://za.pinterest.com/pin/496803402635558965/ |
The west wind that is blowing bringing with it deep dissent,
madness swirls like broken leaves of last year’s failed intent,
murky skies incite with guilt by claiming it’s my fault,
edginess is driving me, compels me to revolt.
Spurs me to an epic flight that’s led by instinct’s rules,
distance overrides all need, away from dying fools,
racing down deserted roads in recklessness innate,
I don’t want to live in this, if this’s to be my fate.
I understand the feeling, the urge to migrate perhaps. but too often for me there is no urge toward anywhere, just an urge away from where I am
ReplyDeleteEpic flight -dying fools. A person on the "verge".
ReplyDeleteThis is such a great poem. Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeletewww.ficklemillennial.com
I like the idea of the wind of dissent. It takes us somewhere .. not knowing where. Great.
ReplyDeleteWe can call it evolution, right...We have to evolve over the years, right
ReplyDeleteYou certainly have not lost your touch.
ReplyDeleteDeserted roads are made for racing down, and away to there. Nice image.
ReplyDeletehello shadow its dennis the vizsla dog hay hmm a west wind and an epic flite mayks me think of dorothy and the wikkid witch of the west!!! i think i had a run in with her wunse!!! umm i meen the wikkid witch not dorothy altho maybe dorothy wuz involvd i hav had so menny adventchers it is hard to keep trak of them all!!! ok bye
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