Blowin' in the Wind

The sun scorches my skin like
it holds a blowtorch to me and I
stand too close - the delicate
breeze breathes gently into my
mouth.

Wine, tart on my tongue, slides
down, and my mind, untethered
seeks and finds the mountains
in my heart as my eyes find
the real ones on my horizon line.

This - this - is my time -  not
the waters that went before,
cascading, smoothing stone - not
the pain in my feet from the
bloody rocky trails, or the pain
in my shoulders and back
from the weight.

How to hold fast to the day
and not be carried away by
swift eddies of thought
uncontrolled, uncontrollable -
that whisper only of the black
and the lost - how to

sieze the sun, hold tight
to the burn, relish
today's sweet sweet pain.

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