Pointing Weather Vanes

Weather vanes standing silently

Pointing, my eyes follow their gaze

Winding roads disappearing over the horizon, searching

A tugging feeling, yet my feet remaining silent for now


Sudden gusts of wind, ricocheting whirlwinds

Brewing storms, surrounding only my space

Never a right time to step out on a ledge, taking chances

But the calling never so deep


A time to leave, a time to go

Not an ending, a beginning to take place

Lifting the veil, brushing the clouds

Leaving the shroud where it lay




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