Saturday, February 27, 2016

The A-Z challenge

A whistle started from the edge of the valley, rippled
beyond the scathing river that runs to intersect with
cries of wolves, buzz of bees and the running of mares
dancing with their footsteps, a wild rush

engraving their mark on wet ground
fast, is this desire to be quick
grounded, earth and elements
here you are ever present, capsuled in a minute

I have heard the call of the valley to join the morning
just as it breaks, a thousand shards of colors
keeping in, a renewed start, define hope-
let me, I hear nature sing as I wake

mindful to these variation, one must become mad
nothing in your way but wholesome, this desire to be
or to try and escape, the great fire, the small tide
planning helps, but mostly luck leads the way, these days

quit milling around for the smallest details, I tell myself for these will
remain intact like the smell of baking bread at dawn
stay here, I hear it again a loud cry that I sometimes imagine
torture, is this head of mine

untie my hands so I can draw, for escape isn't the sole prisoner's desire
value for victims is something I cannot understand
while I still think these thoughts of mine like my childhood's
xylophone, I tap the bigger parts for the smallest noise

you must think I am imagining, the silence, the speech
zone out of your sense, drive your heart to the valley at the foot of paradise, then you will know.

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