Monday, November 5, 2012

XXV

Matters of wind
And of rain
Fall at her feet 
In silent words. 

Not of those things 
Unforgiving 
Rather, she is of 
Mistaken brilliance. 

Though at night
She twists and turns, 
Swirls and churns
All the while you try to sleep

Simply remember - 
She is not chaos. 
This is her peace. 

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