It’s an evil wind that blows today
through nooks and crannies, hair,
and the mind is set to fluttering
here, there, and everywhere.
One moment settled in the now,
one moment looking back,
and the next searching o’er the land
for twigs to make a future nest.
But twigs are brittle, prone to break,
and move with wind like scuttling bugs
to rest upon a foreign shore
where again the wind will blow.
Twigs and me; we seem to be
flying creatures without wings
who flutter, flutter, aimlessly,
between past, present, future.
It’s an evil wind that blows today
until, until - there’s no “until”
because, because, it’s just because
minds flutter everywhere!
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