There was a brave

dialect in the winds,

whispering to my bones.

A chill of love, loss and spite,

concocting a coward’s

heart beat in my soul...

I’ve been mixing storms,

of mind and time.

Separated by such swirls,

of a brilliance un-divine...

And of those dreams

upon dirty stars;

a spiteful disgrace

is mounting emotions

gone too far…

Connect the dots,

the lines make it clear.

Upon that air my

thoughts escape,

and begin to reshape

old stagnant fears...

Unkempt, uneven me.

Even in the odds of

unreasoning...

-HMG