Working Hard

Hi folks. Sorry I've been a little lax on fresh, piping-hot, spirituality-based content. It's been a busy week at my other job. (You know, the one I get paid for.) So, in honor of the weekend, which is mere hours away, I'd like to write you a silly poem.

Westward

Westward flies the avalanche
Westward flies the crow
And light-and-frothy women blanch
At being in the know.

You think you've whittled half your way
Along the frozen snow
But turning find to your dismay
A solitary doe.

The winds are dying in the east
But freshen one last time
We wander, aimless, fleeing beasts
To find our cause sublime.