High into the sky, death's wings do rise,
by the by, death's wings do realise,
Love does fly, does soar in you.
Death, those wings, the bird of prey,
As love, and pride, and hope, do soar.
And as I lie, in bed, in bed,
My skeleton leaves me, and flies with death, like a harpy of old,
A winged skeleton, temporal man,
And there you are, sleeping in front of me,
And around me, and upon me,
Resting, finding hope,
The woman I once loved.
And death, and my harpy skeleton, temporal man,
Does swoop down, with falcon skeleton wings,
And drop us both, this temporal man, into a box,
A hexagonal box, which it puts out to sea,
But the box, a coffin, death trap,
A boat, in this world, below temporal man,
A boat, in it we weather the storms,
And death frowns, and my skeleton looks down, temporal man.
And we weather the seas, and death seas it too,
As we cross the boundary of sea and fire,
And head down into the fiery abyss,
Screaming and shouting, aghast...
As death looks down, and my skeleton does too...
And I am falling and falling,
And I am awake!
And yet, the night breeze, I sensed, it became a hurricane in the morning, my dream, in it as though truth itself, is to know that night breeze, as though in romance- to romance the mystery of the hidden truth. For I love the night breeze, which so few yet can sense.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Death the winged fortress upon those deadly wings!
Posted by Marc Evan Aupiais at 8:10 AM
Dad; Husband; Christian (Catholic); Irish. — News; Business; History; Civilizations; The Western World; Speech; Culture; Law. (Pronounced: Aw-Pea-Air.)
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