Self- Discovery
Wobbly, these feet… sagging on miles
of dangled reeds: a hike takes me
to an attic of moonlight, bestowing bows
of serenity prayers for wayfarers
unyielding to a precise compass
of direction, reckless as it were,
losing the self to gypsy stones
and nomadic thistles bearing my trails...
for a moment, I release this soul buried
in the belly to a chorale of air's hymns
taking flight unto a trail of obedience
moved by pure lightness: no longer a weight
or content divided, but equaled by
forms of singularly whole reminisces...
)*
*.))
Poetry Unhinged for john lawless
8/29/2016
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2016
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