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by J. P. Davies

Because heaven sent it fruitless
and the fragile state of balancing
this streaming light upon our wings
has flashed it's purpose across our skin.



Seeing the brilliant light fade
into a pane of half remembered gauze
seperating the dust of our flight
from the early questions of falling.


But it's enough to stare into eyes
that dance and sparkle to the deep
of souls that have strived for warmth
and casting aside the formality of silence

[While staring out out of heaven, we regard those who climb]

03/03/2004

Author's Note: *Volleys*

Posted on 03/04/2004
Copyright © 2024 J. P. Davies

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Trisha De Gracia on 03/05/04 at 01:24 AM

:D, touche, but your volley will be matched...

Posted by Barbara Griffith on 03/05/04 at 03:43 PM

I agree wholeheartedly about the last line... awesome...

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