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The Landing

The cloud,

A formless palace in the sky,

Drifts by in the haze of this fleeting dreamworld:

Out the window that keeps me separate

From the freedom of its emptiness

As if to enter it's glittering void of star and city light

Would immediately dissolve it into its own abyss...

 

Consecrated by this boundary

This metal bubble drifts through

This most intangible of kingdoms:

Empire for the passing bird

Who never stop here

To make their home

But ride along the fallow winds

That blow in this world of transition.

How I long

To join the darkened skies,

And drift among the passing clouds:

To live forever in the flux and flow

Of the homelessness of empty space.

 

But I am not asleep tonight

As dreams fly me outside this shell

Made of flight and metal hollow

To the wind's cry in my new domain.

 

But ground draws me towards its wake

For dreams that flew me from its grasp

As my world falls from me like a stone

And from this,

My kingdom

I stand overthrown.

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Written by
the-they
American
Published
Sep 14, 2012
Lines·Words
30·177
Notes

there is despair in transience...

Permission

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