The Answers
Are written in the wind.
Recalled and then conjoined
From another time and place
Reverberations haunt me
A distant memory trace
Is it an incantation
A chant with rhythm lost
Seeping through my senses
A bridge I haven’t crossed
Where do they come from
I’ve never worked that out
They enter without bidding
And fill my heart with doubt
It feels like a possession
Trapped inside the mire
Where elements are evident
A wreath of air and fire
I rarely see it coming
And don’t know it by name
When it descends upon me
With a sense of shame
Some call it depression
It has uncanny moods
With no known vanishing point
And rarely it concludes
It walks off with a whisper
Into another incantation
The chant continues
Like a magic intonation
I don’t know if it will disappear
Or know when it will go
The answers are written in the wind
It’s not for me to know
©
David Rudder
2023
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