Giddy with the prospect of painting words
on a blank white canvas,
I see wheat undulating to the rhythms of a summer breeze,
lyrical and uninterrupted,
only to find humanity reaching out for critical mass
to take it to the apocalypse.
Wave oceans all in blues and greens and white froth,
crash against defenseless little children at the border
a scintillating dreadfulness,
fluffy white clouds
in a sun filled blue sky
so unforgivingly beautiful,
bearing their dreams away
receding like the misty province of ghosts.
I feel that warm breeze slide up my bare arm,
smile at the comfort of her touch,
from the unfeeling grotesque
for religious extremists murdering the faithful
praying handcuffed on the ground,
flinching only at sound of automatic rifle’s staccato daggers,
in the public square.
The Lord brings us hurricane winds so often
filled with trepidation,
View original post 100 more words