Gentle Wind Poem by Ray Quesada

Some children played happily in a tree
and one of them was dangling
from a branch, precariously -
but, with the faith and agility
of Youth.

A young man, no older than 23,
pulled up
on a rumbling Harley; Alpha and Insecure;
-

The driveway rocks crunched
like a bunch of ice cubes
under the big bike's tires

Bird silhouettes perched
up on telephone wires
-Innocence is to be revered
and admired

; ; ; The wind was blowing on me
gently, under the sky
and I, was suddenly
blessed with a beautifully-scented
Springtime cocktail
of nasal happiness

-My thoughts flew softly away-

Are we nothing more than an expression
of constant change? Are our minds
but boxes of Delusion, containing
the Illusion that some things are
actually Forever, with a capital 'F'?
Will we laugh through our
solemn, human mouths
in a Universe of Emptiness
until there isn't even
Emptiness left?

-Late August,2011-