My spirit claws my flesh
To be free.
My flesh presses my spirit
For containment.
Neither is successful.
The contest will be decided
At a future time
When the rains swell the streams
When fires burn the sky
When winds lash the mountains
When the seas yield their dead
And the land and the sky storm
In a convulsion of smoke.
Then will I be free.
Saturday, April 12, 2014
I Will be Free
Posted by The Dashboard Poet at Saturday, April 12, 2014
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment