Untitled thoughts shaped into words by the wind.

Let these lovely fields surround me tonight
where the wind effaces all my sorrows
and the clouds tell me that everything changes
that everything is worth living for
stories weaved in intricate panels
piano, drum, bass, drum, crescendo, repeat
the scent of paper as cultures collide
the hugs on a warm night
the dazzling, gaudy lights outside
the invariant abstractions
which funnily form a froth of insight
and all things constant – the universe
and when years have gone by
maybe, maybe you.
But the clouds solemnly tell me that everything changes
maybe, maybe even you
but everything is worth living for
and holding on to.