The Wings of a Bird

If life was around the corner,
If it started in a week.
What would be the plan?
What would therebe to seek?
But lifes already going.
Its rushing by so slow,
Its turmoil, friction, longing,
Is that all there is to know?
Maybe to stop desire is the purpose I am at.
To stop constantly fullfilling, to let go the only act.
To go back to the beginning,
Is painful, hard and blurred,
To look that deep within the soul,
To mend the wings of a bird.

The Wings of a Bird

Melusine

Joined January 2008

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