Style And Rhythm: My ‘Speak’

I speak to my mind, arise.

Out of your low estate.

Of the ashes, you’ve made a home.

Of pandemonium.

Of the pasture whose grass has been eaten dry.

Of sourness, bitterness and tastelessness.

And of a return that meant nothing to your consumption.

I speak to my mind, run.

Away from the haziness that blands our music with sand.

From the peppery meal that fills your eyes with tears

And streams your nose with liquid.

From the imperfect serendipity, and a quest that leads back to yesterday.

I speak to my mind, fly.

Without wings into ether, and watch the earth pulsating like a meter.

Fly into the wild where you belong.

Into credibility.

Into serendipity.

And into the comfort of a fresh grassland

That won’t burn in the wildest inferno.

Poem written by Stephen Wholesome