Saturday, 1 November 2014

Rolling Wind




The pieces of a dream 
Lay scattered before the maker
In times he does not see their form 
Only that to walk with the jingling of their presence 

In a feeling he knew what would come
Like voices in gusts between branches
Like light thinning through cracked rock
And yet as scattered they were 
They were 
You see ...
Were his 

So in shadows of our rolling lives
Amongst the waving scenes of our movie 
Look to the story of him we speak 
Feel your pieces as you step 
Know your time is yours forever

mF


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