Emptying my Lungs at the top of the World
Sitting atop the westernized
version of Haleakala,
my own Molokini;
staring at my feet and
the following abyss.
a road going nowhere.
wisps of elder hair amongst
a blue face,
pulling at my lips
enveloped by the bliss
life to the left, the right,
in front and behind.
a preferred isolation.
poem by Kale Beaudry
Added by Poetry Lover
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