Foreign Skies

Daydreams at the 9-5.

Clouds and rumbling, grumbling, 

Flash of lighting! In between the vapors,

I'm glimpsed, quick and un-frightened.

My wings carry me far, flitting from here to there,

Black feathers, deep as tar,

Remind of the price I paid to fly.

Still I move on, from stormy skies,

To clear plains of the deepest blue, 

Where clouds cover the ground far below.

I rise higher, memories of Icarus,

And his fall, rising with me.

Don't warn me to heed the sun!

With wings woven of purest shadow,

And a heart rivaling the darkest hole,

I rule the skies from a soulless throne.

No fire shall touch me,

I will rise higher than the skies,

The Sun, The Moon,

Above the night, the gloom.

I will rise higher.

I will rise anew.

The End

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