Don’t Question It

O’ Cosmic Wind,

I beseech Thee,

Begin, begin.

Again, Reach Me,

Once more, within.

Torrent, embrace,

Tears dry, chapped face,

Your primal wind,

Cracks the smile

In place.

Storm of Ages,

Collective fits,

Savage rages,

Don’t question it.


Primal being,

Cosmic Wind,

My Soul, you’re sifting.

© CGT, 2017.

Blogging Poetry

Obol View All →

Obol is a poet and an infrequent writer of prose.

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