photo credits
Judy Meeker

The wind whispers to me 432 times. 'If I should whisper into your

listening ear 144,000 times-the thousand would throw you back into eternity,

'Whispers the wind.'

The manchild better known as John the beloved

or The Revelator is whispering above the wind.

The sound is like unto something trying to remember something

forgotten.

But he cannot remember death. He never died...

He is but a bare foot child in his teens.

A barefoot child dressed in a white tunic

that comes above his knees.

His face peeks from a frame of ebony locks-

I glare into his beautiful eyes and tell him to go away, but he

will not listen. He never listens...

He tells me that a spirit is not subject to the unholy trinity

of death, time, and history.

He informs me that life and death have nothing in

common and never walk hand in hand like lovers

as some foolish mortals would believe.

And that their belief was but a lame excuse for death

because they don't have the discipline to control it.

\\\''To go down in history one must first go down into the grave-

there is no history of my death, he brags,

then accuses me of being in love with pain.

I don't say anything- I cannot speak.

Sorrow is tongueless...

I am sorry the first reviewer reviewed while work was still in progress. The last line read: ''work in progress''

Yet I am happy that she heard the wind. The wind has much to say.

God bless