Where does the weary wind go?

Where does the weary wind go?

it seeps into the hearts
of the woed….

there it rustles
and stirs
up the tendrils
of hope.

it blinds the eyes
that see no future.

it breathes life
into the lives
that desire
no being.

its fingers trace
upon a teary face
the long forgotten
caresses
of a loved one
lost in waiting.

 

tarnished

Is it Age which has tarnished this man?

loosened his tongue?
lessened his morals?
degraded his respect?
diminished his kindness?

Has wear and tear and time done its deed?

No….only that irrepressible bitterness of life
and its thorny, barren path.

Do i hate this one now?

No, not hate…after all that has gone by…

struggled and survived.

No, not hate…no, not a lot…just a little.

Ungratefulness is a nettle-laden venom
inflaming all those who are no less weaker than you.

see how selfish one is to remember:

only his errors, his faults

his stumblings-grumblings-bumblings

his wandering and oft lost thoughts…

see how my finger points…how my words sting,

even when inside i am only hurt because
i let the finger point and the words sting…