Homeward
At the beginning of the beginning,
we held the hands of convenience.
The grim delights, perfection is disillusionment.
We've been received, our bones broken from flight.
Our wings taken in a flash; we're thrown down the maps' edges –
homeward.
Golden sunlight spills over the sides of the skies
and holds us accountable for our crimes.
Shades of night make themselves known,
I am the feelings they forgo.
At the end of day is when glittering magicians play.
They write our wrongs down on their pages.
I'm here and there, the in-between, I see!
Feelings ensue,
we are coming soon.
We run the labyrinth through and through,
till we're the masters of the dreamless dream.
Can you hear our call from across the way;
we don't want to stay like this.
The righteous are perceptible.
The unjust are conquering.
I want to speak the truth
but we can hardly breathe
at the bottom of the sea.
Has your kingdom not grown lonely?
Do the lost not seek sanctuary?
Are we not required in your passage?
Have we been thrown far from home
only because of the iron in our bones?
Have we been bound
only because you don't want us found?
How long must we wait
for you, before you return to us freedom?
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
The Dragon Became a Modern Poetaster
PoesiaPoetry is a dance of words, a guise of flesh, and a reprise of thought. The myths of old are forgotten on modern tongues. Such adventurous spirits seek new vessels - fresh words to don and call their own. We shall write them home, you and I. Let the...
