my words

Words are wind and rain, whispers and tears

Jul 26

de rerum natura

it is not the rectitude of form,
even though the traceries
of silken webs and spun moonlight
have their way with us

it is not in the clockwork movements,
from planetary mechanics to tour jete
taking hold and taking flight
with thoughts and dreams

it is the essence of iron
rust in motion, moving hot beneath the skin
sliding slipping deep within
that has its way with us

cast adrift on our own river of rust
seized dizzy uncertain with the flow
of forces never seen that take us
where they will and where will they

it is the night that flows within
the dark unknown that moves at whim
red river running through our fright
that also brings our heat to light


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