Above the wanderers footsteps
I soar
does he see me, can he see?
Were he to look beyond
Himself
perhaps he would steal
a glance of truth
reflected like gold upon my wings
but he shrouds himself with
thorny leaves of pine
and the shadow ridden caves of his home
will never be neighbor to mine
and as the wind ruffles my feathers
can he feel it?
no, not like me
with all his trekking and searching he
has not yet learned to
let life's whispering breath
lift his weathered feet
to higher depth.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC
Above the wanderers footsteps
I soar
does he see me, can he see?
Were he to look beyond
Himself
perhaps he would steal
a glance of truth
reflected like gold upon my wings
but he shrouds himself with
thorny leaves of pine
and the shadow ridden caves of his home
will never be neighbor to mine
and as the wind ruffles my feathers
can he feel it?
no, not like me
with all his trekking and searching he
has not yet learned to
let life's whispering breath
lift his weathered feet
to higher depth.
Copyright Krystelle Bissonnette
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