3 Angles – 1

The winds blow wide and soft, and take
My spirit for a ride;
A moment here, beside this lake,
To be unoccupied

With anything but being still.
The fading Pleiades
Enjoin the sun to bear me snug
Upon the morning breeze.

And though the crickets sing a song
I cannot understand,
I know, somehow, that I belong,
Within this wonderland,

To wander and to freely soar,
To capture and abscond
This somehow feeling always more
Within, above,


Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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