AND when feathers
touched my face
I did well upon
grayish skies
Upon stormy nights
as heaven opened
but denied my soul.

And pain comes upon
sheets of forgetful
promises
i placed my mortal
feet upon Luna
and pushed aside;
what I do well.

I did well, when
walking through the
forest and chased
the fairies across
the golden line
and found my soul;
their land seems
phantasmagoric
(unlike mine)

:: 01-17-2015 ::