O' How My Spirit Longs For Thee
These subtle days in solitude pass
as each season greets a new dream
with wind bending through meandering grass
an impulse charge of life redeem
With arms raised upward to healing light
in each breath I feel as one
a gift of completion sings eternal flight
with scattered stones, rich soil and pulsing sun
I once again return to the spirit within
made of fragmented pieces of endless breath
where flesh is left behind and spirit love mend
a flight soaring freedom without pain nor death
In awe I rest beneath the weeping willow tree
O' how my spirit longs for thee...
Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2011
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