Silence of the slow river.
Silence of the clouds.
Each a nervous drift,
both carrying a dream.
A prophecy of enlightenment.
Their burdens and tears,
rising fast and vanishing.
Then, we are all able
to see out the night.
Flocks of birds
A Wandering Poet
As I walk around I like to record what I experience. Through poetry, ideas and thoughts I hope I can share some of these experiences with you.
A Wandering Poet 