Contentment

[Joshua Smith]

Oh the wind! how it must feel
When stormy tempest clouds 
No longer blue sky conceal.
While underneath thunder clouds shroud,
Striking black tormented sod with light surreal.

I, no longer bound to ground,
Nor vile bog, or dank mire
Confound the wise men’s dumb sound
Which fail to admire my attire,
And scoff my size — for their contempt doth abound.

Alas, let foolish fools shriek
For they will never cease. 
Solace is all that I seek,
And in solitude resides peace.
Therefore let boorish boors critique this weak physique.

Surely tonight is the night
I ascend this aplite.
Myself removed far from sight;
Never to trod upon this blight.
On the wings of a flightless bird I take my flight.

Oh the wind! how it must feel
When stormy tempest clouds 
No longer blue sky conceal.
While underneath thunder clouds shroud,
Striking black tormented sod with light surreal.

I, no longer bound to ground,
Nor vile bog, or dank mire,
Confound the wise men’s dumb sound
Which fail to admire my attire,
And scoff my size – for their contempt doth abound.

Alas, let foolish fools shriek
For they will never cease. 
Solace is all that I seek,
And in solitude resides peace.
Therefore let boorish boors critique this weak physique.

Surely tonight is the night
To attain a new height.
Myself removed far from sight;
Never to trod upon this blight.
On the wings of a flightless bird I take my flight.