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I hear the wind,
It speaks to me,
Whispering in my ears,
Holding me to my melancholy state,
Seeing nothing,
Smelling nothing,
Hearing the sounds of the past,
And the whispers of the future,
Looking up,
The stars stare back at me,
Burning my eyes with their light,
But I cannot turn away,
The voices tell me to listen,
The visions dance in my eyes,
Of all times remembered,
And those to come.
~ZILjIN Lowh, Feb. 28th, 2001 A.D.
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© Copywrite ZILjIN Lowh