Truth the Wind

The absenting of self.

Logic is burning
The ash that remains
The vessel too shatters
The flesh that contains
The logic that's burning
The ash that remains
The flesh that is turning
The logic to flame

Zephyr is blowing
The bones come to dust
The senses too scatter
The remnants of lust
The Zephyr that's blowing
The bones come to dust
The one that is ending
The

Author's Note

Death an uncomfortable stop?

Reviews

[A. Amos]

Poignant, deep and honest write...very strong poetry.

[g d chalupsky]

Thank you. I'm newborn to this crib and have been gladdened to find everyone, so far, plays nice.

[A. Amos]

You're most welcome my friend