Melancholia

The wind is gentle and caressing
It is wise and it calls with a memory
Of some past land and life 
That is not what I am today
I do not say it was better
I cannot say it was worse
It was different
Melancholia 
A state of being melancholy
Blues I guess
They follow me around  
Because I choose to be blue
I could shake it off and smile
Rise up and go jogging
Be brave and mess with facebook
But
It all seems like hollow motions
It has no joy or happiness
It does not make me smile
anymore
The rider of a pale horse
You approach I hear the hooves
Thundering in the clouds
I go out and stand in the rain
Daring the lightning
Shouting at the thunder
I am alive!
But what for?
To radiate love and crave life?
To worship a reluctant god
When there are endless churches
I see no course for melancholia
It has no future