I lift the level of my eyes again
I drown the sight of the boundless sea
I let my footsteps flow with the stream
I choke on reason I should obey
on every rule I make a fire
that burn my vigour and my desire.

While living in this rushing hour
where pain is groaning in the cold
I look for another tale, unknown,
brighter and tempered with mirth
less deep less hard and wild
less holding that grip of my mind.

Of fervent glow I make a humble dream
and place in each low breeze that sigh
he heard my torrent call,
which made all colours fade away
then raced his humid hands
and took all lingering grief
in his care…

That sighing breeze came often back
returned with dreams by night
and lift the spirit of Joy in my sleep
attuned her voice, from a tremulous fright,
that dried my bitter tears
and brought them to the past .

Now Joy is living, not far from me
guided by that low sighing breeze
that caught my footsteps, my vigour and desire,
dreams of sweet moments where time stand still
breathless, never rushing,
just existing in the secret of my will.

January 2016©k.c.