Wings of Song
Long, wasteful years might hurry by
Before we scrutinize the sky
And come to learn that we’re alone,
Though free indeed to soar and roam
The fated space of destiny,
Where dreams of immortality
Are set to rise and quickly fall
And never even heed the call
Of hope, which springs on wings of song
And gladly follows us along
The edge of fate and stream of thought
Where life is born and dearly bought.
Find Langford's poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
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