gone through the broad celestial sky under the mellowed sun,
would i be able to fly amidst the storm of life?
when i stay as a swayed crow thrown among a baffled myriad,
soaring through remains implausible after all.
would i be able to fly amidst the storm of life?
when i stay as a swayed crow thrown among a baffled myriad,
soaring through remains implausible after all.
until the sun rise graces my damaged path in the breeze,
and my impaired wings grazes the ground by the end of flight;
might a staccato laughter that echo above is savoured;
and ain’t the pungent piquent taste of life.
i may just as well for now return to my cage,
to at least assuage the rage of multiple painful bruises;
blanketed by feathers as black as the evening,
and embedded to the abyss of my being.
my success that is like the blissful horizon on Pacific,
after a pacification even for eon that i need,
may i glide through like a fast wind in the wind,
may then, we meet.
mordancy in tempest | iv.xviii.xx
