Pazuzu

I ought to start praying
To wind gods.

Ideas are
Much like zephyrs

Gone the second they are felt

And much like the wind
You can't trap
A phrase

Defeats the purpose
To have it wither away
Day by day
Kept from reaching it's end

After all, beauty lies
In transience.

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In transience

I like.
I read 5 of your poems.
All appeal to me.
Thank you.