Thursday, October 8, 2015


Deep in whiteness, see me being torn
I come, at last, significance reborn
To tremble on the verge of distant realms
Surrounded by the weeping, silent elms
The typhoon tugs upon the tendrils tips
In all directions, now, the zephyr rips
The whisper's lost upon the swirling wind
All twists of fate upon the mast is pinned
A laugh is heard, it echoes on the rocks
Presaging the unwinding of the clocks
The tempest is unraveled on the beat
The windlass hauls the ravage indiscreet


© 2015 whickwithy


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