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Rated: E · Poetry · Inspirational · #1726646
when the cares of this life and expectations ensue, we say no and choose our own way
Upon these cliffs, the raised crag
Stares 'cross the land
IN the dusk- evening singing age
As the skylark drifts

As gray as the nature round about,
The black lines shift
Under the weight of his great height
Clawing the sky

"I am no edifice," he says,
"Nor white glory"
With ivory eyes cutting
Into the mountain

My words are mountains of the earth
Spinning wildly
Into the cosmos of the stars deeply
Without sorrow

Though I weep in this gray with tears
Hard as steel
With the crushing parchment of ancients
A vision, wild

Of drums and marching forward, "Ho!"
Shouts the wrecked throng
"Ho!" sounds the beating heart that is burning
Solely a blue

With teeth and nails, swords and spears,
Eternity,
Breathed in a moment as the sand blows
Opening my wounds

Tall grass in meadow and still,
Small daffodils
Cooing in the gray bleached by the hue
Of my vision

The light of thunder like unto me
Loosens my bonds
Shallowed by the depths to float on,
This precipice

Goodbye, skylark and sallow gray
I'll remember
But I'll not stay; for my heels march,
Fore'er they march

© Copyright 2010 Bruce Gahlin (chewnam at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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