Gentle Wind
Some children played happily in a tree
and one of them was dangling
from a branch, precariously -
but, with the faith and agility
of Youth.
A young man, no older than 23,
pulled up
on a rumbling Harley; Alpha and Insecure;
-
The driveway rocks crunched
like a bunch of ice cubes
under the big bike's tires
Bird silhouettes perched
up on telephone wires
-Innocence is to be revered
and admired
; ; ; The wind was blowing on me
gently, under the sky
and I, was suddenly
blessed with a beautifully-scented
Springtime cocktail
of nasal happiness
-My thoughts flew softly away-
Are we nothing more than an expression
of constant change? Are our minds
but boxes of Delusion, containing
the Illusion that some things are
actually Forever, with a capital 'F'?
Will we laugh through our
solemn, human mouths
in a Universe of Emptiness
until there isn't even
Emptiness left?
-Late August,2011-
poem by Ray Quesada
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