I hear the falcon
but not the falconer;
its prescient screech
claws at my ears
The shadow of its wings
is delivered by the sun
but those who gather
in its path cry out in vain
The worst conflate
their ways with
passionate intensity,
belied by lack of
true sincerity
And yet the best
decline to rise or cease
virtue as vulnerability;
they watch unwittingly
as the falcon turns above,
finding no footsteps
into Bethlehem
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 7:59 AM UTC
I hear the falcon
but not the falconer;
its prescient screech
claws at my ears
The shadow of its wings
is delivered by the sun
but those who gather
in its path cry out in vain
The worst conflate
their ways with
passionate intensity,
belied by lack of
true sincerity
And yet the best
decline to rise or cease
virtue as vulnerability;
they watch unwittingly
as the falcon turns above,
finding no footsteps
into Bethlehem