Thoughts drift like the wind;

the mind, an internal shapeshifter.

Leaves tossed within the storm,

each one a lonely drifter.

Echoes of what I have lost.

Within the chaos, I stumble for words.

I seek clarity among confusion.

Trying to understand the language of birds.

Whispers merge into a blended mess.

Drowning sense of the unknown.

A gust of wind, and they scatter.

Leaving the emptiness I have known.

I seek serenity, a quiet mind.

Like the dead of night, I seek peace.

To find just one among the stars,

the noise of a crowd that won’t cease.

When the morning comes, will this fog lift?

Is there calm with the morning dew?

I seek answers, I seek truth.

Desperate for a different view.

Kelly