early morning, the wind's engine
hasn't started yet; it idles
just outside the city's limits, await.

building bluster, the wind starts slowly; saps
the sun of it's heliocentric qualitites.
and with thor's lightning bolt, scorches
all who aren't shaded by opaque hopes.

left standing are the blind, ignorant,
fools in king's clothing, and me.
all hoping tomorrow answers the door.

10/29/2007

Posted on 10/29/2007
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan