Silverwing
If I achieve nothing else, if all that I have worked for is for naught, I can die happy
knowing that I have lived through my soul instead of forcing my soul to live through me.
The roots of this tree are tied to clouds
No earth and no stone can hold on in their simplicity
To the amber leaves and glittering branches
That shelter the silverwing faeries of my mind
In the distance, there is the sparkle of amber
Count the clouds, slowly rolling
Dropping tears from the crescents in your eyes
Slowly drowning the ignorance
Let the rivers flood
Tear down the concrete walls
Sealing innocence and blocking its light
Let the clouds collide
Bathing us in their flashes of truth
Drowning out the sounds of hate with their beautiful confusion
And let the mountains bow
To the silverwing faeries of the mind
Below, the ants swarm
Marching to the rhythm of the ticking timepiece
Melting in the August sun
Pile the rubble
Up the hill
Down the hill
The rhythmic footfall carves a trench
Deeper into the earth
Till the softness eclipses the sun
Above, there is only sky
No dawn to the East
No dusk to the West
But in the distance, there is the sparkle of Amber
A golden twinkle against the pale blue
A humble light that can shatter mountains
Dancing on an eternal horizon, growing and fading
Its touch as gentle as a ripple
Caressing the shores of my soul
In the palm of my hand, there is my sparkle of amber
Copyright © Moose Bak | Year Posted 2009
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