The Source
A light, a single warm glow shines in a world of dark decisions and ever present worries as we walk though the veil of mists from that which was once safe and towards a future cold and yet unknown. A rustle of wings, a shower of feathers a creator surveys all in his grasp on currents of magic and even as he paints on the surface of the wind his mind is drawn ells-were. Higher and higher till the atmosphere is but a faded dream whisked away by the beating of his wings and still his mind wanders farther and farther from him. To a shattered dream made whole, to a memory so warm it threatens to eclipse his brightest sun, and no matter what he creates or how many he knows this is one of a kind. Farther and faster his wings carry him through a place lit only by tiny motes of light like glitter in the wind towards a place he left long ago but can never forget. With a great flash the world around him is peeled away leaving only a trace in the eyes of a man whos wings are hidden, standing before a door to a simple house. The door opens and a smile spreads over his face as he says the words he could not bear to hold any longer....hi mom, how have you been?
Copyright © Zach Kelley | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment