A blessing disguised as a curse.
A patch of light devoid of conscious spirit.
Serenely rests the sky upon the horizon when it is truly seen.
And can never remove the golden ring of the sun.

The wingèd hero makes his escape and his return
As we lose the distinction between them,
So circuitous in his path.
In the end, I stand, peer beyond, and run for my life,
Until I find it.

Mystery surrounds it, Love controls it.
The skies lust for its freedom.
Speak, and only hear.
Open your eyes and watch them as they close.
Reach out, and learn what it is that stretches too far.
Learn what you thought you already had.

The birds preach the scar as they split the air between us.
They will fly on, they will proceed.
Constantly in front of you, but never ahead.
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The stars board the bridge to our hearts,
Formed by the point of a finger.
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