Have you seen my flame?
It burned bright in the bleak world,
but now you have it.
Have you seen my flame?
What was at first glance
a dragon turned into a
conquering of self.
Words? They oft deceive.
Feel the hymn, as it pulses
through a divine soul.
Sat the yellow boy,
paralyzed by gripping fear
of a cruel world.
My pale, wretched character
feeds off greatness;
sustained by an unreachable
ideal of who I could be,
but still the embodiment
of inadequate action.
I take a deep breath
and admire that greatness,
wondering if you see
what I see;
I move towards the ideal –
but only a single step.
In these moments
when I become more than I am
by looking at you,
we are equal;
so quickly the illusion
I could never be the past me,
as of yesterday that ship sailed;
witnessable here are cracks, see –
once wondrous colors now have paled;
still, strength remains within the beams,
and atop the mast a flag flies true;
ever set on the course of dreams –
hard at work, this lonely crew;
seemingly endless exhausting toil,
held together by a single reason;
to finally set foot on heaven’s soil –
maybe I will arrive next season.
A writer’s soul is a blind battle cry
tempered minds attempt to quiet;
its blood burns with the sun
in depths of undiscovered strength,
dreaming private conquest;
extracting elegance from discord
to forge wings with it;
this is homage to the honing
of the destruction of silence;
witness if thou wilt,
our words echo of stars.
Don’t wear his wool,
it won’t help against the cold;
mistakenly removed from a fool
who never listened to what was told;
defying myriad canines snarling,
shepherds hungry to box him in place;
guided only by purring starling,
searching for his own glowing grace;
repeating remarks in a tone of snide,
feeble attempts to carve at the core;
each insult quickly taken in stride,
aiding a journey towards something more;
still, misery resides beneath his coat,
cast it aside if found lying nearby;
unless determined to be worthy of note,
passing through darkness into clear sky.
Beneath the shelter of your wing
was found a solace I once thought lost,
as if permanently forsaken;
longing for the light to touch me,
and to its glory I bowed my head;
watching the ribbon unfold,
and with it, I too unfolded;
revealing unique colors in a variance
of shade that stunned
the status quo;
but in the cacophony
temporarily torn asunder;
in your hymn the respite
from turmoil was brought;
a piece of me gathered,
the image inevitably coming forth.