Untitled

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Gurns
Sojourner
Posts: 554
Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2001 5:01 am

Untitled

Postby Gurns » Thu Aug 30, 2001 9:59 pm

I walk a tortured path,
To what end, I know not.

They whirr by me,
Great flocks, rising, falling.
Swooping in, soaring out of reach.

I snatch, I grab,
To catch and hold,
To lay before me,
To walk on.

Most oft, I miss.

When I catch one,
It looks at me with pleading eyes,
Begging for release.
Or taunts me
With it's uselessness:
It knows it is not what I want.

What I need.

Both hands empty,
Empty heart, empty eyes,
I grab again,
And catch nothing.

Rarely, so rarely,
I seize one and place
It before me.
Only to see
My path buckle around me.
All rise, all fly.
They whirr around me
And then all away.

Now the air is still.
I am left with...what?

Someday, I dream, someday.
They will return.
Settle on my shoulders.
Nibble on my fingers.
Sing in my ear.
Thus I dream but
My emptiness denies it.

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