The Brides of wind

of wind
blown
swept across
search
the
span.
 Brides run mayhem
seeking
no land as law.

Brides of Identity
searching
what
they
know;

truth
self
or the gloss
of this non done glass
shattering and blowing
into
a crust of thousand
pieces
blown
over seas.

The
seal
if shroud
and ping of pain
repeated.

Skull the ocean
and ride waves
brides
see over
the
run of rush.

A year
is no brute
nor a bride.

Say and mock
bride after pride
swept
and gone
whispers of a kind.