The Watchers

It is the sign
of the more than human:

This strange disphoria
with my form.

Possibilities
vibrate on the air
and in me.

Wings
somewhere
on the edge of being.

Ancient voices,
syllables out of time,
calling.

Names of the shining ones,
strange and symbollic.

The language
of the forgotten
whispers through me.

Something lost.
A great dignity
surrendered.

Sacrifice
or penance?
Our price for yearning.

The feel of mortal flesh:
the newness,
the trembling.

Yet the fires of Heaven
smolder.
In my heart. In my blood.

Are we fallen?

Not fallen.

We dared
to see the beauty
of the forbidden.

We dared to hunger.
To desire.

We stood upon the edge of Heaven
somewhere
in that forgotten space.

We gathered wings
about our golden bodies

and leapt away

Leave a Comment

New Report

Close

Skip to toolbar