Imminent Flight

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Wingless and alone,
walking blindly
into the unknown.
Mute and missing
the music of birdsong.

Staring into the storm,
there is alluring space
between the rain clouds
and the mist, and
the darkness on your face.

No place left to go,
you walk corridors
of forgotten institutions;
archaic knowledge littering
walls that resemble your flesh.

Your true journey
is within the scarred chambers
of a tenacious heart
that beats in time
with your anxious mind.

You stand quaking,
ancient memories beckon.
No one guards the open doors,
but you feel the heat
of a dragon’s tongue.

The air burns brighter,
dryer than the storm’s grey face;
flaying your skin
as you shift into shadow,
moving towards grace.

Cocooned and shrouded,
closer to your truth,
wrapped up in darkness
it’s impossible to see
your imminent flight.

~JL©2015

 

Journeying

IMG_0417Journeying
transitive verb
:
to travel over or through
~Merriam-Webster Dictionary

“To reach something good, it is useful to have gone astray.”
― Teresa of Ávila

“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.”
Ernest Hemingway

What can be said
about the path we walk?
That it is forever
winding,
at times
confounding.
That it may
be covered in
flowers,
or shards of glass.

We may walk it
in solitude,
or with someone
we love,
or someone
we loathe.
We may find
peace
in the journey,
Or only
despair
in the process.

But we walk;
and sometimes
we become
aware.
Taking the
steps,
counting our
breaths.
In and out,
we smile
at the flowers
as well as the glass.

~JL©2015