My feet are shod in molded clay,
My legs wear tattered gowns.
My arms wear green, torn and frayed,
My head a golden crown.

The roots of flowers twine my toes,
A serpent guards an tongue.
I am a maid with many woes,
I'm neither old nor young.

Gravity doth hold me fast,
The dragon in his lair,
I am mortal... yes! Alas!
I long to fly through air!

Looking up to silken skies
Stitched by silver birds,
I hope, I pray, I soon will rise,
That my song is heard!

Free me from this weighted earth!
A wing'd horse to become,
I'll fly this light filled universe
The harp of stars to strum.

Off to the constellations,
I'll forget the place I've knelt,
I'll sip from the Big Dipper
And cinch Orion's Belt


SoulSurvivor
aka Write of Passage
2022