The Wind

This thing forgiveness

Does a tree forgive autumn

Taking away it’s leaves?

Or a lake the sun,

Water caused ghosts rising:

Be clouds.

Only tears on a sad sad world.

I tip my head,

Outstretch arms,

Catch a drop or two on my tongue,

Soon a Sun will rise

My pale blue shirt immersed,

Tears of forgiveness,

In the rain.

How can I dream

On sleeping wind,

Blown over twig,

On the plain of

Lesser;
than mere rooted grasses,

Wolves command the wind

In its place of memories

Forgotten,

What it means to forgive.

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