Out There

They call to me,
those wild winds,
caressing me
with the delicate roar of life,
like an oncoming storm
in the eternal hours
of summer twilight,
all the while
promising the freedom
of “out there;”

“Out There”
beyond where
sky and horizon embrace
and dreams in their maturity
are realized against
the endless backdrop of
yesterday and tomorrow,
but only after they have been chased
and the mountains of today overcome,
only after they have been caught
and given the fullness
and measure of a life lived;

out there…
where the wild winds beckon.

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Unwritten

Though pages unwritten
await their grace,
words fail to find their voice;
but we know what they are,
and that should they ever
be set free
they would fall endlessly
into the void between us.