The Poetry of the Image - imagesofthejourney-com

Stepping off the mountain summit I fall into the wild wind's world
my body, bent, flung forward, blinded,
is cast down from the heights, rough over winter's white waves

The wind's wanton wail wraps me, steals my breath, shakes my soul
shear ecstasy in the soaring power of nature unleashed in
this blinding blizzard hurling me down the canyons gape

Then from above faint against the tumult, a cry, wind ripped, wild as any storm
a great eagle riding high, defiant, riding rippled wings
oh my heart sings, to see, this glory of the sky, valour and joy flying high
immersed in; part of the tempest

My tears come, at hearing her clarion, cry caught high and flung defiant into the heavens
her spirit soaring above those that plod on this earth, she calls me out
and I make one request to her, one request to grant me this same soaring spirit for my final flight
so that I too can ascend with courage to the heavens, with this same raptors rapturous song
when my last storm rages, taking me into the night

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