Aerial

I see blue on the tip of my white seagull wings.
I dive sharp into Desire and tear the sky,
I circle around my prey in rings
and I nibble pity off of Desire’s lips – I make them bleed.

I see white on the tip of my white albatross wings.
I do not pivot or halt, I am set to meet the Horizon.
My wings won’t carve the clouds for I travel not in search of,
but to spread my wings along the breadth of knowledge.

Alas, I am a waif of the winds;
caged in a conundrum between two fates.

I die as Hedone under the sun that burns,
when I touch my human nature.
And revive as Astraea with a cold evening breeze,
fleeing from chaos before the hourglass overturns.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: