The Whirlwind: Poetry

Caught in the whirlwind,
I am merely a string
on the breeze
spinning towards a
Ground I can’t see

I wonder where
Heaven resides,
When will I wake with long
hair and wings of flight
To carry me through my life

Just waiting for it
all to make sense somehow
So that I am not just some
Fool sitting on a street corner
wondering what day it is

But my mind stretches
into vast reaches,
Yearning still to have
This blessed quietude
of relevant awe

Then my fingers
graced the keys
As if there board
were a piano;
I fiddled with
these words until I’d
honed an element true

And these words I placed
round the edifice of my desires,
Smudged them with
the sage of hope
Then raised my eyes
to the sky

"If I would be given the gift of
Such music, God," said I,
"Let me play it."

Blog Archive