all i wish for
are your wings ;
( great. powerful. endless flights through places i would call home, just me and just my thoughts and just the wind. )

all i wish for
is your beak ;
( sharp. different from a human mouth. responding and calling out every wordless sound i want to scream to the world. )

all i wish for
are your paws ;
( carry me as far as you can )

but i am not you
i don't have your wings
                             or beak
                             or paws
                             or what i wish for most of all

( let me tell you the most striking thing: reading an interpretation of you, learning about how you could possibly, probably, maybe predict and detect and deduct lies, never being fooled, gazing at people, being able to gauge their sincerity with just a sharp threatening sweep, of your eyes. )


                              most of all i wish for your eyes.

It's like I'm climbing a mountain
With no safety gear
At first, it was easy
Perfectly placed footholds
Easy access
But things have changed
They are crumbling and slippery
And the ones below me have crumbled away
All above get more and more spaced out
They get smaller and smaller
But I just can't turn away

I have no store
Of gryphon-guarded gold;
Now, as before,
Bare is the shepherd’s fold.
Rubies nor pearls
Have I to gem thy throat;
Yet woodland girls
Have loved the shepherd’s note.

Then pluck a reed
And bid me sing to thee,
For I would feed
Thine ears with melody,
Who art more fair
Than fairest fleur-de-lys,
More sweet and rare
Than sweetest ambergris.

What dost thou fear?
Young Hyacinth is slain,
Pan is not here,
And will not come again.
No horned Faun
Treads down the yellow leas,
No God at dawn
Steals through the olive trees.

Hylas is dead,
Nor will he e’er divine
Those little red
Rose-petalled lips of thine.
On the high hill
No ivory dryads play,
Silver and still
Sinks the sad autumn day.