And the wind

breezes through the pavement.

It flows through

the threads of my being,

and my soul fought

the temptation

to be free with it.

And it sinks,

it plunges.

The moment of having no choice,

that is;

of being left alone.

And by will,

silence weeps

a celestial cry.

It moans to the heavens

for all seems lost.

And the wind

breezes through

the struggle with defeat

which lies

unfinished still.

October 2000