By umbra
Date: 30 May 1999

Wind without

	   There is a wind blowing outside,
      Whipping the treetops to a frenzy of motion.
      In the background, the kettle whistles,
      Gently boiling,
      Oblivious to the storm.
      All actions seem empty
      as I sit with myself,
      toying with vagrant ideas.
      My own company has become,
      Insufficient.
      But there are no angels here
      to fill the void.
      I have spring cleaned my soul,
      casting the debris from my mind.
      But now I realise
      that sometimes a cherished illusion,
      is far nicer
      than a bleak truth.
      The wind is blowing
      ouside,
      and the becalmed ocean within me
      Is jealous.