Thursday, November 10, 2016


The north wind blew me here,
A trickster,
Leaving me stranded in the tempest of my mind.
Whispered breezily of "experience." 

An elder apparition in a red shawl once warned me away from her home,
Now she guards the the bridge so I cannot leave.
Her hair falls in long braids,
And her face is marked with wisdom. 
"Experience." She seems to say with her gaze.

The tempest rages on.
I have made the wolves my friends,
But they are not tame.
Sometimes I feel as savage.
Sometimes I feel nothing at all. 
Sometimes I feel the harsh hand of experience. 

I watch the village burn away in my mind.
I close my hands around the burning embers.
The bridge has sunk.
The woman in red becomes the red earth,
And I become the north wind,
Rushing and wisping away,
Until I realize.

I am the tempest.
And I can't escape experience. 

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