Let me ride on the windstorm
That floats above the oceans;
Let me catch within its whirls
The faith which will save me
From preserving in salt depths.
The winds are running all about
The open vales and close gorges;
Wishing to fly in all conscience
I'm cracking my life in portions.
I use to cut my tousled fortune
In fine slices and round circles;
I use to shred it with my passion
While moving with tight air flow.
I wish to comprehend in-depth
The taste of riding in its fatality;
I do it gladly as my fateful duty.
To be always sane and wide awake
I put myself between windstorms
And blue deep waters of the oceans.
This one is similar to one of my older poems that I have written years ago in which my guardian angel is watching over me while I ride the tides of my time.
Explore the mystery of how nature makes unexpected gifts of creative wonders to an unsuspecting caregiver one late night and early morning in southeastern Georgia, USA.
Love ya!
Jane
Ron
Great job! I like this!
Sandie