Quietude
When storms lift the hood of
this burial shroud
And rage flashes down by way of
the clouds,
I take refuge in the quiet of
winter twilight,
Nestling deep into the cold and
restless night.
Right at this very moment, I
only want silence --
No words, no music, no noise or
dissonance,
Just the moving images the
zoopraxiscope projects
Motions in my mind, where dark
shadows reflect.
I see horses in green pastures
run like wildfire,
With flames stoking desire,
rising ever higher,
Fields of periwinkle blue
stretching endlessly,
A clear path where the eagles
soar to eternity.
Feel the winds of change blowing
through my hair --
Spirits of the wild, hold me and
take me there,
To the healing waters where hope
rises and flows
And the sun ascends, triumphant
in its golden glow.
Colleen Keller Breuning © 2014
December 10, 2014
Your words ascend, much like a kite in a straight wind, with you holding tightly on the line.
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