Time Yet Sung

Riding waves of time yet sung,
Wondering where life will come
To take me up from where I am,
Another life, another song.

Lifting high where eagles fly,
Floating currents warm and cold,
Watching clouds roll swiftly by,
Closing voice to West Wind’s hold.

How did I this spot becalm
When all around bespoke their qualm
Turning, twisting, to undo
Knots around them, tight and skew?

I took a breath, held my ground,
Felt the feeling not the sound,
The inner voice, a nuance soft,
Holding safe, away, aloft

© Copyright Robin McShane

August 19 2014

As per this blogs copyright

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