by A.Gouedard23 Jun 2014
I hurtle through space
velocity pushing my breathe back
choking on air, falling, eternal spin.
Seven aeons, seven hundred,
Seven days, seven minutes
No sense of time or a reason
I land in a world of stone,
hard and unforgiving.
My left wing broken, unable to fly
I lay on the rock alone.
She comes to me with a scalpel blade,
unpicks every stitch in my wound
with exquisite, fine pointed precision
lost in space, I roll from the rock
drifting downward in free fall
the earth rises to meet me again
old greeting, old paths, old ways,
days barely remembered
this land of arches and doorways
doors open, doors locked, a mystery
I escape from this place
to the trees by the river
where the castle shadow still falls.
Staggering I fall to one knee.
I try to hold on to what's left of my heart
tired, broken winged, exhausted.
Time and space don't matter to me
I wish only for peace, tenderness,
to know that she will remember me