Am I a lone insight,
Longest shadow of the shortest day,
Bound forever to fight,
Every step of the way.
Whilst you, Winged Vision,
Of fate unfairly divine,
Ye tremble through the sky,
Free of all design,
And wasteful plays of men,
And weeping bowls of earth,
Each night to burn away,
Each dawn to claim rebirth.

My calloused hands are scattered,
Black hair, brown with dust,
Soul gaping through the cracks,
Voice waiting to shed it’s rust,
Whilst you, Winged Vision,
Of feathers white as milk,
You stand bedecked in pearls,
Dressed in finest silk,
As springs first sprouting allure,
Fragile as a fay,
Far away from mortal pander,
Immortal everyday.

For you I have tasted,
Bitter tears without rest,
For you I composed seisms,
Beneath my hollow chest,
So that you, Winged Vision,
Shall never find me hollow
As a wanton manikin
But a heart that will follow
You, to the end of age,
In skies on weightless ships,
Past high seas and horizon’s hour,
With love on unsealed lips,
So if life ends tommorow,
And indifference wreck my cast
I could have a breath to borrow,
To ferry my very last.

One thought on “Misnomer”

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