Once a favorite conversation piece,
now something more like a disease.
A weathervane sings, a wind chime clangs.
...
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I always enjoy your work, but I must pause here a moment and say that the final two lines of this poem are excellent. I would delet one word for rhythm, but even that doesn't matter. Excellent work. Not usually a fan of rhyme, I find that in these lines the jangle of rhyme at the end of each verse adds to the impression of the narrator's mental anguish. Again, excellent.
Hail! Savant Poet! The beautiful and wonderful imaginary verses flowing, following to give worth to the conscious. The theme to the sub conscious mind and for the sloth, disgrace mind. The awakening of the verile spirit is emphasised. The tempo of the musical notes, like the weather is an eternal metaphor. The mind kept in the wind of desire will flicker and will wilt, when compared to the lamp kept in the wind. When the lamp is kept in the cave, the lamp emits light with bright and without flickering, like the mind without desire, remains, refrains calm. God Bless you,
That's beautiful, Chris. I recognize something of myself in your words. Thank you.