First there is the wind but not like the familiar wind but long and without lapses or falling away or surges of air as is
The poetic vocation calls a man
to inner desert frontiers,
in order to dip into the ocean
of unexploited forces in him
So many went to war, had frontiers crossed,
All very apt and fitting for the times,
Blazed prairie trails, or be in oceans tossed,
But lo! This soul just prides to write these rhymes;
The sun beats mercilessly.
A coastline invites the violence
of the great lake.
Inertia catalyzes swift reaction
testing limits unbeknownst before,
experienced elsewhere, though, we ignore
discomforts which might hamper freedom, action.
Frontiers we cross
as old beliefs we toss
clearing the jungle in our mind
(The period is 1700 AD
Two friends –both females—are discussing)
Blossoming of various flowers
Western frontiers widen to planes
Laid stumpy to the rim of horizon
radiance too far away to separate
Night so day lingers as measured
Whatever did we do,
Before we entered the Facebook Wonderland?
Oh, we played in the streets
And went to pubs and socialised.