Summer Breeze
early morning,
early afternoon,
early evening,
till the early hours of the twilights. . .
I am as the summer breeze,
blowing carelessly,
through the stiffest of grasses,
the densest of bushes. . .
I have blown,
the dreaded locks,
of hair resting upon,
the head of Cleopatra into,
the the easternly door of oblivion,
I am the wind,
that pushed Hannibal's armada,
forward,
to the northernmost tips of Gaul,
And blew the smell,
of defeat downwind,
to t...
Summer Breeze
early morning,
early afternoon,
early evening,
till the early hours of the twilights. . .
I am as the summer breeze,
blowing carelessly,
through the stiffest of grasses,
the densest of bushes. . .
I have blown,
the dreaded locks,
of hair resting upon,
the head of Cleopatra into,
the the easternly door of oblivion,
I am the wind,
that pushed Hannibal's armada,
forward,
to the northernmost tips of Gaul,
And blew the smell,
of defeat downwind,
to the southern heels of Europa. . .
The summer breeze,
that I am,
carries heat of such intensity,
that once breathed into,
the souls of US,
it fuels the ethereal fire ,
of life driven, passionately by,
that force which we call LIFE. . .
Take my eyes,
for example,
they are the doors and exits,
to the events,
that I have fathered,
or have been the mother,
to my ever-changing perceptions of life. . .
Soul,
my pit of fire,
burning brightly lit,
embers of inspirational flames,
streaking across the night sky of my mind,
leaving not one inch of I,
untouched by this godly act . . . .
I am,
one within myself,
as I am one,
with the puzzle of life.
Intricate,
in its ever- changing picture,
delicate,
as is its seemingly,
undecipherable meaning. . .
. . . but I am one,
with it all. . .
To touch me,
you would feel,
the unconquerable strength,
of millions moving the planets,
on the sheer force of raw will. . .
To kiss me,
you would shiver,
at the chilling touch,
of my full lips against yours.
My words are spoken,
with cold hard facts.
Yet, if you probe,
deep into my heart,
I would consume you, entirely.
My thirst for passion,
cannot be quenched. . .
If you tried to hold me,
you would grasp nothing. . .
I am not yours to hold,
nor am I mine to control,
A product of life,
to produce the life of thought,
I. . . am. . . a. . .
.....Summer Breeze
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