This should be the time
of deepening thought.
But the northern wind
wanted to join in and sent up a blur
of brain-dust obscuring distant
noise, as if dimming a light.
It is time for shining light
in forgotten places. That celebrated time
when foggy, distant
race to mind…only to be blurred
by icy wind.
Friendly fire in the form of wind;
cold, from northern lights.
All those colors shifting and blurring,
confound even timely,
keep them at a distance
Often the distance
is so far away, wind
hitches a ride on thought
and only the speed of light –
surpasses the time
of arrival which, by then itself, is blurred.
With time and tears, all things blur;
become strangers in the distance,
where there are no reasons or seasons. No time
for goodbyes and the cold, gritty wind
erases all that is good and light
like a whiteboard full of thoughts.
A nightmare of thoughts
hard to find the light
in the vast distance
between two ears where whistling wind
makes its home most of the time.
Time confounds. Clear thoughts
should reign but wind up more blurred
and distant than foggy city starlight.