Thursday, November 3, 2011

Eminent

©Stacie Sandall


I walk in the wind; there is no air.
I feel their presence; there is no one there.
I do what they tell me; no sound to be heard.
Body so young, mind yet matured.
I speak my peace; I make no sound.
I cannot be lost; I cannot be found.
They take me on journeys; I stay on one land.
I write these words; they control my hand.


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