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The Wind Blows its Cold Through the Dark


The wind blows its cold through the dark and the willow tree kicks her arms and summons me to dream my belief to the pleasure of Love.

On bent knee I cry out into the darkness. Nothing.

I beseech the wind to forgive me. Nothing.

I plead with the soil to allow me another chance to serve Love. Tremble, drum, string, wind, breathing love throughout heaven…

She calls to me, she yearns for my touch, my Love to come sliding from my confident hands, drip from my every breath, from my deeds.

None shall be in Heaven until they realize where they are.


© 2011 by mark prime


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