A feather is falling
Through skies of red
The sun is now setting
The day is now dead
On cliff-edge I sit
Wittling all this wood
Thinking of the music
I've yet to let loose
Behind me a bear comes
And stops in his tracks
He sits down beside me
And grunts and he laughs
My hand pats his shoulder
Broad; covered in hair
He comes in, now, closer
And speaks what we share
"This nature, this life,
This death, this strife,
This land, the womb,
These trees, the tomb"
He stands up beside me
And points to the sun
"See, when we get that,
That's when we've won"
And with that he turns
And walks far away
And I sit here bewildered
Without a thing to say |
Submission Name: Journey
