Altair Laahad


Confidence


A word told the wind
I trust you my friend as in god I do trust;
my name in your hand you carry
and thrust as a sharp sword into
the bosom of the clouds you encounter
when pity is solicited at the dry desert
where you both conspire against the lurking death
which spreads its wings above all mountanis

And the wind kissed the little word
and retorted:
confidence is my game mate,
and vanished beyond the horizon

Submitted: Sunday, May 19, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 11, 2013

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