0 23 0

That is I

Date Written: November 9, 2017

Deep pools of blue coast by, greeting the young pebbles and caressing them,

scraping the ground beneath, swift movements undressing them.

Sit and Think, of the Yellow-Bellied birds with tails of blue, think of their desires and the need that fills their thirst.

Think, on light wings, once satisfied, they coast by.

That is I.


Think of the Forceful hands of Swift Winds, wrenching from their branches yellow leaves,

Grabbing and Thrashing, who’s cruel tricks leave Conflict with the rocks.

Shouts of anger, yet reprimand none, as ways split for the next of a chat never-ending.

That is I.


When the swift-footed deer stares and lingers above, smile deep and orbs black, azure eyes reflect he, and entrance his mind within the endless streams of a thousand grins.

 Silent is he, yet seldom is varying words condemned.

In me, he bends his neck, and for he, I split.

In me, dwell the swift fish pushing past in mindless hurry. Ceaseless, they run on strange feet, my spine half a shelter from the greedy talons of the gulls.

That is I.


In me, All and Nothing is eternal, from the fisherman’s will to hooked nose they wield,

that seeks the kiss of denizens plenty.

Stirring is Entropy, as he falls, and soul cease.

Fierce is my roar in my brother storm,

Devouring loose land and unsuspecting hand.

But gentle am I, after all passes by.

That is I.

Leave a Reply

Send message