Song of Myself

Flexing, the leaves, like iron Tortured by constant upheaval Grasping at the edge with Fading will and wanting strength Stubbornness, a pawing bull In the brunt of swirling Winds brought from beyond The future horizon shining In expanding glory Watching as the leaves Remain like iron. Purely by desire, they remain Like a bubbling river pressured Above its banks without letting go. No law contains unruliness as The leaves, flexing, like iron, Remain.