“It was not without a certain wild pleasure I ran before the wind delivering my trouble of mind to the measureless air-torrent thundering through space.” - Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre

No course chartered

On this forest of dreams

There is no wind

To free

My

Mind.

 

Of all the moments that matter,

Why does this one stand out

Like the beacon saving the ship of hope?

How I listen for that call

To raise the mast

In the full wind of progress

Towards a destination I long to be

For eternity.

Answer me,

Tell me that this isn’t a ship in a bottle.

 

 

Shuddering in

The wind’s relentless caress,

The bough begins to sigh,

Groaning and swaying,

Singing its own soft lullaby.

Sometimes I feel I am a tree in

A windless world.