Friday, June 19, 2009

THE DANCE

Shadows fall, through fissures;
Wounds old but new.
Everlasting, all pervading;
A falcon’s cry; the storm puts pressure.


Strange song & dance this;
Joyous to the naked eye,
Blinding those reasoned to bliss.
But the wind knows-
The truth; in the Falcon’s cry- bellows.



The path Walked before,
Memories from eons ago.
Like leaves, feathered touch;
Like thorns, her signature cut.


The tempest blew, carried all away,
The eye was calm; dark as night- the falcon swayed.
Did she watch her hapless prey?
Suffering, turning- no escape.


And so the dance carried on-
Shortly joined by another;
Wild, exotic, evil,
Falsely warm.

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