The Bird

Charred remains of the feathers of happiness
Burnt, fall to the ground
In ashes, over your absent presence

I have seen the bird

In my dreams, she was whole
A dove, white in her purity
And essence untouched, unblemished

White feathers covering her naked body
A blanket over her softly beating heart
Fluttering her fragile, beautiful wings

She would fly

Black eyes, naive and fearful
Of the evils and sins of the world
Would scan the horizon with hope

My own eyes opened to see
The burnt feathers, lying scattered
Soon to be blown away

The fire grew from within
Fed by the flames of doubt
Consuming her fragile heart
Her desperate wings, feathers alight
Striving to live, but it was not to be
Her eyes filled with shock and pain
Blew out like a candle

Her heart was still

Hope leaves with the charred feathers
Blowing through the doorway
To the cold distant world
Into the arms of Fate and his men

But in my dreams she grows still
Into a thing alive with strength
Mighty wings traversing the roof of the world

Her eyes ablaze, no longer fearful
And an undying passion in her heart
Devours the flames that forever fail
To burn her soul, eternal soul

For in my dreams, she flies

In my dreams, she lives.

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3 thoughts on “The Bird

  1. there was a year gap between this post and your previous one.
    writer’s block, anyone? 😛
    this was very good, by the way.


    too bad you couldn’t understand my shakespearean soliloquy.

    Like

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