1/30/12

Dove White Crest; Blackened Hell Within

A chilling draft into an upward gust;
I've received time to heal my broken wings.
Still sore, I climb the winds
Gripping your back with talons, I've given you momentum.

Yet, granted this is speculation, your newly gifted ears have not done much hearing.
Further into my feathered chest you nuzzle your beak.
Fervently, I flutter and flap, attempting to might up our collective weight.

And again, here descend Planetary whim.
Collision course set, a denial to jump ship.
I will take in this toxic atmosphere.

Rocky, clouded breath in.

The searing cold of space curses my thin.

1 comment:

  1. Sorry if this seems unrelated, but i love that picture of the lightning.

    ReplyDelete

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