Arc
I am tied to
the arc of an arrow.
Bereft
of all that
is earthly,
I see a frail silvery
swallow
swifty
follows
below,
seconds in free flight
a lull,
the night
to fall
and I thud
to ground.
Impregnable sound.
Blue egg shell
fragments
on the wound
of black silver grass laments.
I am
the impression,
faint
hollow
depression,
of the flight
the fledgling bird left
behind,
inside the shell,
there to dwell,
still,
silent
to see
in the moons light,
in the moons shadow,
lands end,
or has begun.
Or be;
a call,
I walk,
think,
impeccably.
the arc of an arrow.
Bereft
of all that
is earthly,
I see a frail silvery
swallow
swifty
follows
below,
seconds in free flight
a lull,
the night
to fall
and I thud
to ground.
Impregnable sound.
Blue egg shell
fragments
on the wound
of black silver grass laments.
I am
the impression,
faint
hollow
depression,
of the flight
the fledgling bird left
behind,
inside the shell,
there to dwell,
still,
silent
to see
in the moons light,
in the moons shadow,
lands end,
or has begun.
Or be;
a call,
I walk,
think,
impeccably.
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