@d-pend - . -
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With the wind, unwind;
soar to rarer plane.
Here I find my wings
growing slowly, sheer —
dragonflown inscriptions
from the pinions peer
while the spirit sings,
while the demons leer,
offer dun inflictions
'pon a paling page.
Here I come of age,
sleeping through the fall.
Drowsing through the rage,
I spit out the gall.
I grow hoar with frost,
blonde mustachioed —
with my body lost
I am gently rowed
out to wondrous places
rarely ever known
by the hardened faces
in harsh sunlight shown.
I can show you beauty
hidden long ago;
in the dawnlight ruby
was the silken sewn.
Grown to mountains magic,
swoll'n to vast proportions:
dwarfing midnight tragic
of the world below.
Soak in strange distortions
of the silvered night
while my beard slow-lengthens
on the other side.
While they quake with fright
from thin-temporal,
discords here subside
through deep-liminal.
Crouchèd in a garden
where gold vines snake through slats:
here we lose our burden
while our short lives elapse.
words and images by @d-pend
created for HIVE on Sept. 6, 2020.
