I looked out of my window,
and saw the clouds
trying to release the rain.
A fabric of words ready to fall.
It has become my habit,
to keep living.
So, I turned away –
and incense in hand,
the day resumed.
With only the silence
able to speak.
Notes from a journal
I looked out of my window,
and saw the clouds
trying to release the rain.
A fabric of words ready to fall.
It has become my habit,
to keep living.
So, I turned away –
and incense in hand,
the day resumed.
With only the silence
able to speak.
A Wandering Poet 