A Wind Of Life Poem by Graham Stone

Chaff on the wind I float
There is no direction in me
And on me shall nothing dote
The current carves my path
But not a choice I have made
I am forced along with wrath
And falter under impersonal rage
With a lack of self sustain
The chill bites away my ache
And I am too feeble to fight

I float with blossom, with birds,
With bugs and other ghostly debree,
Where are my angels of delight?
Why won’t they come to liberate me?
I am bathed in rain and dried in sun
I am battered by snow and blinded by night
I am given no chance to roam or stray
I am given no rest or delay
And I am too feeble to fight

This lack of consideration
Defeats my whispered spirit
But still I am not laid to waste
I am a morsel on a course of life
I am a mortal bluntly despairing
I am a moral to those who blight
And I am too feeble to fight