Monday, October 19, 2015

these wings are 
uncured parchment
not yet hardened
for rising on the wind
but if I had the magic
of what it takes for flight
I'd lift the pallet of your dreams
in all their greens and blues
for the artistry of stars

and they would paint their stories
ablaze across the night
of all you've ever been
since the galaxies were born
and all the things you're yet to be
in strokes that dance the memory
of an ancient they have known

but I am just an earthling
with unfurled softened wings
and only the smallest star
hid within my heart
that has long forgot 
the songs of home
but remembers who you are 

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