Some singe the strand that binds a bird to emotion riddled dreams.
Doth thou not know that even in love not all is as it seems?
Singe the cord. Still stretched in time, but burning at one end.
Doth thou not know that even in love there is not a cardinal mend?
Some singe a strand, which ties a bird to the heavens in glass dreams.
Doth thou not know that even in love the strand burns right at the seam?
by Felicia Lujan
1.31.18
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Connection,
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This entry was posted on January 31, 2018 at 8:59 pm and is filed under Body and Mind, Connection, Disconnection, Dreams and Transformations, Love, No Love, Pleasure and Pain, Poetry, Poets, Writers, Writing. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.
My Voyage Through Time 
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