deepundergroundpoetry.com
High Winds
In the quiet mines of the mind
Whispers calling songs of ancient longing
In the dark, thoughts do stir against the brace of day
The state of vicissitude and the tides it brings
Strap the sails against the wind
Against the sea their is no point but to ride it's waves hence and forth
In some states all there is absence
And a measured balance of its weight.
Whispers calling songs of ancient longing
In the dark, thoughts do stir against the brace of day
The state of vicissitude and the tides it brings
Strap the sails against the wind
Against the sea their is no point but to ride it's waves hence and forth
In some states all there is absence
And a measured balance of its weight.
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