The Courier
I am no more than an Courier
A wanderer through life
Words are what I choose to cling to
Purveyor of the times
Spending forbidding moments in the desert
Just to watch it bloom at night
The chilling winds that blow the stinging sands
Help create that which I write
I look for answers in the greyest of skies
Where there's no limit to the powers that be
The howling wind changes the shape I'm in
That only the darkness it can see
The river that flows freely from my soul
Starts out where this life fails to end
And when it reaches its destination
The tide will rise again...
Copyright © Mike Hauser | Year Posted 2016
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