I Ask Not For Sun Poem by William Blake Beckett
I Ask Not For Sun
Climb
The rocks slip under my feet.
I re-adjust my pack; now
Up
towards the blue, open sky
belonging to birds of prey.
When
will I reach the craggy peak?
Not before the storm starts to
Rain
and it will it break my will? No
as encumbering liquid
Pours
from the heavens, breaking all
but my spirit; Now looking
Down
on the valley, all shall know
I can face the flood alone
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5/5/2024 9:35:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
