The poem married to this piece:
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MESSES OF THE MIND
A muddled mess I am
A Destructing self beneath the suffering of expectation and duty
But then comes the loudest quiet of them all
The days in late spring
When Elohim sings
The days when thunder roars, cumulus tears pour
In the days of late spring when Elohim sings
This is my favorite quiet, I think
Or At least maybe now one of many
The days when the skies darken and electricity
hangs in the air like the cobwebs of potential energy
The storm is the destruction of what was
With the promise of all that is to come
Is the emotional upheaval of dreams and
the wiping of a slate clean
Oh how I love the days of late spring when
Elohim sings
When, the roar of his chorus sparks awe
When the crispness of rain sodden air
brings memories of winter
into the embrace of a promised summer sun
It is here that thoughts of tomorrow are most quiet
- Subject Matter: Abstract
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