Wind carries the souls of my ancestors ever flowing lightly caressing my mortality.. swirling whirling so gracefully ~~~ HONOR ME ~~~ their whispers beckon me.. ~~IN YOUR THOUGHTS~~ ~~~~YOUR WORDS~~~~ ~~~YOUR EVERY DEED~~~ I reflect upon my ability... as my body fails in agility... my soul reaches out verbally... to remain humble creatively .. I bow below the pride of the intensity... that comes with the gift of a poets lack of sensory... I drift high upon the winds of the healers wings... soul cleansed with the words he sings... heart purified I see the beauty of things.... Slowly I emerge bare feet to ground... I seek with words to inspire this LOVE Ive found.. if only to motivate man and woman enemy or friend... to open their hearts to the souls that ride the winds... They are of love of good of gods creations.... T.Grindle The Perfectly Imperfect Poet 1/25/15
Posted on: Sun, 25 Jan 2015 05:27:57 +0000
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