Hollow Be Thy Name
Within hollow birds
Of bones, soul and mind
Instinct welcomes ignorance
Just like men without a question, “why”
Waiting time, sitting idle
In faraway limbs
Further into mighty trees
Seasons wasted unsuccessful catching winds
Blackened feather flocks do scatter
At sights upon their own shadow
And fly to find an evening feast
Nourishment from another’s tragedy
Says the flower forsaken from what's wild
“I am, just as thee”
And pass, days and truth awhile
That they were never really men...
Or, ever truly free
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