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søndag den 29. januar 2012

Trackless Lives

what is a flightless Dragon
but a shadow of itself?

I live in parallel realities
as I wake up Wild Swans cross the sky
and I make coffee in my kitchen
behind closed walls I sip my bittersweet drink
like spiked mother's milk
Clouds, traversing, turning
from pink to purple to grey
maybe it will rain to day I think as I sit ...

and then I do the laundry
the sky still seemingly Blue
behind
the rest of the Universe still deep
and Black and Endless
like my mind

Crows unperturbed by thoughts of an endless universe
unaware they chatter to themselves or amongst eachother

I, I go to work in this created world

But then at night I sleep
under heavy blankets of warmth and comfort
and while Wild Swans lay flightless with naked beaks
tucked in the feathers of their fiery chests
on quiet Oceans
and Crows have settled silently somewhere
their chatter ended
in a tree reaching
moved gently by a nightly wind
in the dark that almost hides the clouds

But in a cloudless night the Universe is visible
an inch of it, a speck, a corner
indefinitely small in comparison
to it's vastness
but still

In such nights I dream
I am a Dragon
and I fly

I spread my giant Golden Wings
with glistening scales of emerald green

My tail leaving only an invisible trail in the mind of those
who see me

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