Yearning

Soul of a Bird

Photo taken from: fineartamerica.com; made by Caroline Jamhour


Many syllables ago Yearning came my way:

It slid across the desert floor, over the icy hills.

Flew against bright, iron winds and ran on legs of ease,

then dove under the babbling drops of Sunrise

and through the White Abyss.

It swam the pastures, engulfed the trees,

frightened the Birds of Paradise;

without remorse It took the feathers 

from their wings and gave them colors

of eternal spring.

It forgot about long-lost melodies of a time

when Time stood still.

Yearning entered the blaze –

came out unfazed, forever unchanged.

It knew the path to my hearth,

In a herd of manes It knew my name,

And so the Yearning whispered…

Oblivious to all the rest, I heard:

Let me in.

And so I did.

From that moment on

I’ve become known as

The Wisher of Wings.


 

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