Hey, quick question: what do you do when you want to fly so badly it aches in your chest, when you look up at the peach-colored sky and the tiny drifts of cloud and the mountains with liquid gold running down their edges and your heart flings itself over the fence for you to follow, when the air is sweet and sharp and your lungs too shallow, when you suddenly remember four walls and all the weight that comes with them and wonder if you can stand on this sidewalk forever, when you can almost – almost – feel the wings unfurling from your back and you know exactly what it would feel like?
Asking for a friend.
When golden glow the further peaks,
And towards the Rising of tomorrow,
While clouds mix in bloodied streaks,
Oceans rise in deeper shades,
Wherein the whirlpools, tides of stars,
Forever circle.
Do not leave unshaken, the darkening sights,
We see and confound in the order of lights,
Nor understand places, nor times of our life,
But knowing of freedom we by thoughts are bound,
In mystical hope every soul can be drowned;
The glorious bright sun reflects in the heart,
And of beauty unsighted we wish to take part.
Do not run after the fast-fleeting gleams,
Glimmers and sparkles which from heaven’s streams,
Flow unto the earth – they return every day –
Just watch at the moment, in peace, simply stay.
The depth of infinity rises o’er the light,
And softly pushes forward the night.
‘What does one do?’ As well could we,
Question the way one views the sea –
An endless surging, pulsing heart,
Mystery forever rending apart,
The world at its basin, or the pools of death,
Where lie so many who gave it their breath.
‘What does one do?’ We see,
No horizon of frothing waves,
Just slowly piling seas of stone,
A surge in millenia, standing alone,
Shifting, grinding numberless graves,
The light is grasping at mountains’ cleft,
To hold on longer – each muffled breath,
Of rock by smooth wind so gently carresed,
Coyly soothes pain, sweetly murders fright,
And both go gently into the night.
But a heart longs to follow!
Stay – Do not run,
In hope of ever catching the sun,
But watch and wait; the last light will abate,
And a new light shines out midst the oceans above.
‘What does one do?’
Quavering stars and a million souls,
And the Moon –
The Moon! it at wonder pulls,
Strands, silver-silken snatch at memory,
Arrest thought, angel-paths of light.
‘What to do?’ You can not fly,
As do stars a-twinkling,
And we know, and we wish, a heart living to die…
In mute amazement, soul wanting to cry,
Stay softly, leave at peace, this coming of night.