Biography of Michael Ernst
I'm no poet, just life things floating about in my head.Closer to lyrics then poetry, lifes a song. Pent up ghosts, inside for too long. Many on this site will know what I'm talking about.
On silver wings 35,000 feet closer to the sun, I see below me a river
Where does it come from?
Where does it go?
It knows not why it flows.. only that it does
winding, churning, moving bits of sand from here to there
From up here it looks contented, peaceful
But somewhere down there it rages against its banks,
seaching for something not knowing what or why,