The sound of a hollow wind—
Not unlike the troubled mind.
How it searches for peace:
In love and whisky…
Over the land and mountains.
Taking the tides in-and-out.
On the outskirts of reason—
All answers cease to exist.
Still, we jump-in,
search what cannot be found.
Victims
to necessary confusion!
Safer –
The possibility:
Discovering—us—insignificant,
too staggering.
Painful truth is solid.
Wind,
better on the run,
whimsical tones on wanting chimes.
Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2017 All Rights Reserved
This is quite moving. Thanks, Maria. ❤
No, thank you Je! 🙂
nice…