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Literature Text
One day, we all started flying.
We soared amongst the stars and
Dreamed. The wind lifted us
Up towards the sun, while we sang
Beauteous etudes of hope and
Dust. The angels screamed in envy
Of our grace, but in our dreaming,
We just smiled. We flew,
Uncounted weeks of ashes falling
From the flaming sky. Then it happened,
Slowly at first, but with the inevitable
Finality of dying flowers. Some around us
Started losing their feathers. The feathers drifted
Down to touch the land of discarded
Stars and freezing midnight vacancy.
We asked why, but they would not share
Their secret. Their dreams became erratic
Full of anger and confusion. They turned
From the stars and from us. Meanwhile,
The feathers continued to fall. We screamed at
Them to let us help them, but, laughing,
They started to drop through the sky.
We held out our hands, while they
Slapped them aside. The stars started
Crying for the lost as they approached
The land of broken visions.
They laughed at us, and told us
That flying wasn’t that nice anyway.
We should come down with them, they
Said. But we saw the tears behind their lies.
Before hitting the ground, they looked to the stars
For the last time. They saw their mistakes, and
flapped
And flapped, struggling to rise once more, to their
Proper place in the ether. But their wings
Were shells of the former radiance they once were.
They clawed in the blackness, but quickly gave up,
Turning their faces to the dirt.
They landed, and stood to watch us.
We cried tears of regret and blood,
But we had to continue on. We flew,
With our heads turned back so as to
See and remember.
There they still stand,
Their wings at their sides, now useless.
Some can collect their feathers and rise
Again. But most embrace their state,
And while they die, never again
Look to the sky,
To the Stars
We soared amongst the stars and
Dreamed. The wind lifted us
Up towards the sun, while we sang
Beauteous etudes of hope and
Dust. The angels screamed in envy
Of our grace, but in our dreaming,
We just smiled. We flew,
Uncounted weeks of ashes falling
From the flaming sky. Then it happened,
Slowly at first, but with the inevitable
Finality of dying flowers. Some around us
Started losing their feathers. The feathers drifted
Down to touch the land of discarded
Stars and freezing midnight vacancy.
We asked why, but they would not share
Their secret. Their dreams became erratic
Full of anger and confusion. They turned
From the stars and from us. Meanwhile,
The feathers continued to fall. We screamed at
Them to let us help them, but, laughing,
They started to drop through the sky.
We held out our hands, while they
Slapped them aside. The stars started
Crying for the lost as they approached
The land of broken visions.
They laughed at us, and told us
That flying wasn’t that nice anyway.
We should come down with them, they
Said. But we saw the tears behind their lies.
Before hitting the ground, they looked to the stars
For the last time. They saw their mistakes, and
flapped
And flapped, struggling to rise once more, to their
Proper place in the ether. But their wings
Were shells of the former radiance they once were.
They clawed in the blackness, but quickly gave up,
Turning their faces to the dirt.
They landed, and stood to watch us.
We cried tears of regret and blood,
But we had to continue on. We flew,
With our heads turned back so as to
See and remember.
There they still stand,
Their wings at their sides, now useless.
Some can collect their feathers and rise
Again. But most embrace their state,
And while they die, never again
Look to the sky,
To the Stars
sxe Philosophical poetry
© 2004 - 2024 straight-edge
Comments2
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hey thats me. YAY!!!! Do you think though that you could like put my icon in the description or my name or something so people will know that I created it. Thanks.