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A Feather of Thought
A storm brewing storms, the father of storms.
Rain is just beginning to fall, the thunder horns,
Hair is being spread throughout views of dark clouds,
The heat of today washed away by dim gods.
It’s a storming storm, father of storms,
And in his hands a million sons,
and more sons in hands of those.
The smart one runs, the loving stays.
Hands of his own they hide a feather,
Hidden from the nether by jelous need,
On this feather scribbled letters,
To happiness love I’ll feed.
Soon the eye of the father storm,
Blinking never, raging ever,
Crushes grimly this little worm,
The feather with letters,
Strides into the storm.
Men and stone, machine and god,
Rubble, beast and what not,
Flying, dying smashing, crying,
No one smiling, no one smiling.
Blitz and thunder, water rains,
The wind it raises grains and plains,
And in this darkness where non matters,
A feather with letters, gathers impressions.
The father of storms took its father,
And father of father ages ago,
Reminiscent of nothing the feather still bothers,
Whether this cycle happens to others.
Calm, calm, there is calm, ssshhh...
And death.
Yet the breath of the storm still glides the feather.
Wherever.
Not forever.
Loosely it lands, from left to right,
Right to left, the feather with letters,
Loosely it lands.
The land a wasteland, desolate, dry,
The dizziness still preventing a smile.
For a while, it stood there,
Deaf and dumb,
For a while, it stood there.
A feather in the sun.
To happiness love I’ll feed.
And fed it was with storms and rains,
The taste still fresh but it will fade,
But happiness-for storms it cries,
Letters lie and fathers lie,
For a feather with letters reality seemed bleak,
Sun and dry weather disgustingly reeked,
Into the nether the feather it flicked,
And on this feather some letters blinked,
The feather changed them it would seem,
To love, life I’ll feed,
as happiness, just seems like greed.
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