GHOST TOWN
I know if I can just be still
if I can quell the restless
choppy waves of my ego
the constant coming and
going
of my hunter's mind
where are you?
the moon is misty
there is the foghorn sound
so mournful...
the air is thick with brine
even the eyes of the Sea
swell with stormy longing
(Written by Sonya Tomlinson-Warren,
108 Bhakti Kisses - The Ecstatic Poetry of a Modern Gopi)
