wings cut

Wings cut, flesh torn, eyes burned and blind Heart so weary borne upon a life, some say, unkind. Time will come and go, knowledge gained or lost; Rivers change their flow; summers die in frost All that’s proud and full of fury in each person’s story Sunk beneath the fathoms of depressions veil. We humans sought to reawaken, but did fail. I will write a word or two about a pear that clings Frosty morning air anew, as summer wanes. When autumn sings I shall turn the other cheek, Jot some mental notes and such then turn to sneak a peek, Were it not for noise, I would not glance back Nor halt to hear the frantic fray; to enter then this play. Character cast, twice remove; something by each side to prove. Lyrically lay with lantern lit, composing each and all of it In metaphoric style; lost of wit, but never wile; I fracture to repeat, upturned sockets sweet. Sumptuous undertaking of loved and all beloved; Splendor in the Eye for taking all whom I may meet. Hoping to move and by them all be moved. No trouble here, noble poets burning. Turn back to the fires you're tending. And all that you’re unlearning. Pass up the gauntlet to those returning No more yearning; no more ending. Satisfied to write the wilting flowers praise; Documenting endlessly, natures endless days. Casual observer thus inclined To take up simple pen - of simple mind; Talk of flowers and butterflies flying Then maybe the flutter of wings Will drown the sound of dying Each voice sings..