The Wind Rose
If remembering is hopeless, then it’s time to resign
But its easy to say, than to perform rightly
Time shifts down slowly, crosses the final line
And red turns to brown, showing its time to flee
Who on earth now desires to die for a consideration
Now art is for artists sake, they get rid of all Gods
And what was achieved, is artificial machine of elation
That's how it was rationalized by the contrived odds
Draughty philistine hallways with nailed moose antlers
What a tasteless design to be set over the door
In the family genes howls the wind from the north angle
Scattering up the papers around the parquet floor
A southern wind shines on my best mondays
The west wind tangles my words, makes me sit until late
The eastern wind drinks my wine in the bleak sundays
Puts me into condition I’m unable to formulate
It should make a difference, but it doesn’t, if you surrender
Or if you resist, no matter how, deep inside
Or externally, like your own brave contender
Who fights his shadow just for the sake of a fight
Winds can blow away one life for fun
Another's life they'll ignore and pass by
Why dissent and argue, under this cool sun
No contest comes from another day’s pale sky
My wind rose is quiet sometimes, it patiently waits
When the clouds of despair will seize me completely
Then again I am back in that hall, to hear through the shades
Someone's native voice, that sounded so sweetly.
Copyright © Gregory Colodub | Year Posted 2024
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