I Whispered

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I whispered to the morning winds,

A quiet "Why?" beneath the sky.

I wonder always why I let

The trivial things annoy my mind—

The things that time will leave behind.

Whispering these thoughts, I moved along,

Until I met my waiting song.

Within my poem, I dwell in peace,

Where all the worldly tremors cease.

With pen and paper by my side,

I let the silent rhythms guide.

Lost within that sacred space,

Until a breeze brushed past my face—

A sudden blow of wind to wake

The sleeping soul, for spirit's sake.

In an eternal search for truth,

I walk the path of aged youth.

Alone within the wind I go,

With words that only poets know.

I mutter low, a secret gist:

“True, a poet is a blind optimist.”


Moods 4/12/2022

 

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