Through the flying times I knelt
27 February 2016
We are born
Like in a whirlwind
The hours strike
Our birth’s time
Like flame of burning candle
Sketched in the tempest
We grow needs
The crowning of life
Wilting through
What heart heeds
Within the morrows I sow
Food for my own thought
There are shades
Painted within me
Where I find
Alternates
Possibilities to breathe
Scarcity of you
We are born
Like paper airplanes
The winds lift
The winds rip
They set us lone and adrift
From our shining selves
I am not
My death is open
Like a book
Angular
Each corner a tilting point
Where I die some more
The fate blind
She grants me token
Of morrows
Where I lie
A closed copy of myself
Within deep set grave
We are born
Like a flight of geese
Panicked flight
Left to right
The Northern skies ours to please
As we yearn Southern
Fortune said
She favours the brave
I forgot
How it felt
To wish upon a new day
Untainted by sigh
Holy grails
Within my faint grasp
Air leaving
As I gasp
Through the flying times I knelt
My tidings the nails
Reading of the poem:
Black & Blue – Archive
Again – Archive
Distorted Angels – Archive
Axiom – Archive
Geetha Balvannanathan's Blog - Isis Tratum 
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