To FreedomO! little bird, have you come to join me
As I weave the melody of my soul?
Each arpeggio sweeps me to countless New Worlds at once
Each crisp trill links to my back New Wings, pair by pair
Our song of passion, crystalline and clear
Unheeded, naïve, so pristine and pure
Which even iron whips and steel rods cannot break
As long as our hearts and souls soar free,
Just as you and your wings
May our minor scale be the only dark scale
And the only dark stairs we must climb!
May our minor cadence be the only cruel cadence
And the only cruel bars we must find!
Let us sing, then, 'til
The heavy footsteps of reality or sleep
Tread upon our graceful fantasies;
Until then, let us sing! --- a thousand years to this freedom
Liberty, long live and prosper.
Musings of the Losti.
Pearly wisps and smoky vapor
Tea leaves, chipped like shredded paper
(Vanilla dreams burn 'pon the taper
joined up in a scarlet caper)
Those mountain peaks there
A billion running steps
Away, seem all the
Same to me: a monotone
Sound wave draping dappled sky.
Here it rains
a chilly rain
(a perpetual nuclear winter-storm
of vapor tears and thunder songs)
Here echo dreams of utter death
the silent spectral symphonies
ingrained ink and starry breath
all blind and specious euphonies
Here is where it rains.
At the source of the river
Was a single forgotten seed
Greedy for protection and water
(It sought life
Not knowing better)
So the gentle spring rain burrowed it into the chunky soil, and
Soon later it stretched its newfound, fragile limbs
Greedy for clear skies and sunlight
(It sought sympathy
Not knowing better)
So the clouds obliged and dispersed
CM - VixenoflightThe crows outside hiccupped their hoarse syllables to the dawn. The alarm clock inside warbled equally hoarsely, as if desperately mimicking the creatures outside.
Under swaths of blankets, the Woman floated up and out of sleep – slowly, slowly; her eyes were blurred and not yet awake. Her pale, slender fingers scrabbled for the alarm; finally, the long search concluded as a lucky poke silenced the sounds inside the house. There was a moment of quiet nothing when the Woman seemed to sink down again into her pillow and her dreams.
”Uugh!” Blankets were tossed aside as the Woman heaved herself up, staggered to the window, and jostled the glass pane lightly shut.
But it was already too late. The crows had won again – they had gotten her out of bed. A good thing too: It was 7:32 AM (the alarm had been set for 7:30), and work started at 8:00. Groaning and shoving her night-tussled hair aside, the Woman changed into the day’s clothes