The Blissful Wind
A long poem. Almost an essay.
The wind is howling more than normal. There is a rage, a fearful one that somehow points to a new order that will arise in my lifetime. In a weird way I somehow hope it does.
That urge for me to start in poetic prose, rhythmic form or words that sing and link to other kindred spirits is never far away, yet I am also contemplating that I have been drawn to bring my soul to…