Soul Wind Cometh

Edward Babcock


Wind rushed Door

Swings wildly on Fickle wind

Streaming through my land

I remember

A soul memory

Last year

Maybe last life

Eyes ablaze and bedazzled

Heart pulsing beauty embraced

Spills to oceans of mythic memory

Mosaic tiles of love and beauty

Rebuild the Icon that is me.

I bow before it in


like warm oil it

Fills dark crevices I know well

Now gone

A thief

Stealth by light of day

Brushed in velvet darkness

A jewel hidden

my sextant rests


Sit More

Soul wind cometh…..


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