Monday, July 4, 2011

In the Hands of the Anemoi

Blowing East and then blowing West, with rage and then a soft caress;.
mocking, absent, in jibe or jest, deceive then callously confess.
Adrift without, and with distressed, consigned we only acquiesce
to drown or thirst in this, our test; the winds blow not to curse or bless.

1 comment:

Amamankhet said...

Wow. How the fuck can something feel both prescient and late at the same time? I'd laugh, but I can't fill my lungs.