Bitter Wind

A barren field, which way to turn,
The paths all the same are worn,
The dusty earth, the pallid sky,
the heavy winds, a forlorn sigh.

The waters move the planet well,
Yet so very laden is the swell,
the rush, the current be so strong
Mountains are sand before too long.

What to do when all is gone,
Perhaps listen to the winds sad song,
Or the birds that carry the ages tune,
They comfort the spirits so alone.

Oh, Chagrin, the bitter cold wind,
The dust is painful in my eye,
Let the ages fall beneath me,
Let the waters run til dry.

World Clock

Always looking towards the clock,

so much time, and even more thought,

to fill the chasm, limitless void,

the eye, the ear, the mind have toiled,

the spirit reaches when the feet must rest,

and the mind remembers which of all were best,

the feeling of a place drawn across time,

the power in hand when motivations align,

the inspired song when the muses take flight,

the remorse when the light grows dim in the night,

the delight when the stars fall and fade,

and the fiery sun sweeps the brisk morning away.

in one direction every thing must fall,

the rhythm is surely without, withal

and whoever set the motions made man

a wandering ‘low sun soon as he began.