Each and every syllable down a page
Formatted so the first letter of each line
Is capitalized.
The ink is black
The alphabet pieces are curled
Just slightly at the tips and ends.

In my hand the paper catches
A crinkle
From the pressure of my fingerprints
But I can’t relax
The line of my elbow.
I stare at the words, they become my emotions
I don’t even breathe
I don’t move lips.
The raging wind has taken it’s last breath and
Hits the house panels no longer

When i get up i appear in Washington
With Poetry and i
Place peace and love
Into all the hands of the House
And i journey further and farther
Before the wind whistles a wake up–
Representatives of each country hold
Poetry in their hands

All the wind hits the house now and
I am back at my desk
Starring at black ink
My whole heart, aching for a peace
That might exist when all of their eyes
Adjust, open.

Dear Leaders, Daily Prompt: Standstill:  http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/24/daily-prompt-stillness/