The winds race strongly, directly at my whole body
I lean myself against the wind's force on the mountain's
highest stone. I spread my arms
and suspend my body over the edge, held in wind.
Thin belts of fog race toward me through blue.
On this outcropping in the sky,
I am standing on the helm of a boat.
I am a stationary voyager with velocity,
The wind surges over the bow and hull,
crashes over me
as I seek my supreme destination.
Stefano Resta
That is an awesome poem! I could feel myself standing on that cliff...
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