Windmills
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Windmills
The castles in the distance,
are rocks arranged in order,
to match the need of escape,
and the ultimate inclusion...
of self-sufficiency and freedom.
Monsters in the dark,
some of our own making,
most tangible even to the blind.
Yelling things at us loudly,
but no one hears...
anything,
but sublime.
Storms on the forefront,
of every new beginning.
The map ever-changing before our feet,
The goal elusive and yet complete.
Looking for a ribbon,
of yarn or thread?
Turns out to be kite string,
running through our head.
Laughing barefoot in tall grass,
remembering all that has gone before,
yet look forward to what is coming,
a tsunami of water; a whole ocean,
to ride a wild wave to the very stars.
As I know that is where...
you are!
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2020
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