For a purpose of not yet reveled

There’re events that, just happen

I feel such a change of wind- stirring

Like bone warning of a cold winter

Brewing yonder of temporal horizons

Like a strange season not yet born

Not yet seen or cursed once landed

There- from where my soul once came

As it turn-twisted, lift and breathed

From the nothingness that was not

Until that soul did come… to be me


Poet of the Light © 2018-Regulus



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