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Rated: E · Poetry · Opinion · #2202818
The clarity of reality.
My heart is racing at the thought of reason;
cold, clean facts—reality’s snowfall on
which to ski…my heart is anxious
for the universe, where trails
are pure with truth, and
the sky is not blue
due to want.

My heart yearns
for the atmosphere’s
pressure so we all can
breathe, for the clouds that
bring us rain, for the wintertime’s
contrast which makes summer much
more dear, her warm arms appreciated.
That is a contrast I relish, one that is
held in earnest, one that is seen
clearly.  Reality need not be
stampeded by unbridled
horses in the snow,
white, too hard
to see

21 Lines
Writer’s Cramp Winner
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