Nikita Tkachov

Where The Winds Blow Wrong

If all were to fail
And nothing still stood,
All dreams turned to hope,
And all hope weren't good.
Where you once stood tall,
You lie on the floor.
The strong winds will blow
To the wide open door.
Their breeze, your only guide,
Cold in nature and way,
Is black with the ash
Of your life's dismay.
It would blow all wrong.
For your way isn't out.
It is to stay in.
The winds create doubt.
Your goal is inside.
Go against the wind.
Only you can know,
When the wind has sinned,
Their breeze is your vice.
The winds stay the course,
But you will need not.
You ride with the horse.
Your place in the world
Is where you are now.
Your place may be hurtled,
And you may be small,
But you are still king.
Don't follow the winds.
They will break your wing.
For your place is in here.
For this, your domain,
As dark as it may be,
You shine with your mane,
And show your delight.
Here in your world
Where the winds blow wrong.


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.