Floating in the Wind

He floats in the wind
he who has no refuge
in the Lord
refusing to be guided
by higher principles
an echo, not a voice
in the vast chamber of darkness.

He who listens not
to his inner voice
is a slave to his whim
a weather cock in the wind
turning this way and that
pushed by winds of chance.

He is a burst of raucous music
down an unlistening street
his idle tears fall
on uncaring silence.

No one knows his pain
nor do they wish to know
for they, too, are locked
in their aimlessness.

Unwilling to turn to the Light
they wander aimlessly
through the night.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Share your thoughts if you wish.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s