The Wind and I
The trees are swaying in the wind;
Now once again I journey on my way.
This time to a place where no longer I will bend,
The night seeps in and takes away the day.
The wind knows my name;
The trees seem to be sighing.
The wind is whispering a warning,
It speaks of an evil that’s undying.
I wish that I could stay here;
But no longer can I wait.
For even such a man as I,
Cannot escape his fate.
The above poem was inspired during personal reading that struck a cord with me. I wish I could remember what, when, or where I was reading so I could give you more context, background, or thanks on these thoughts. My poetry, finally coming back to me, seems to be dark these days.