Birds soar high above the ice chiseled cliffs,  roil  over  ancient forests at the moss covered foothills of  Mountains.  I hear the voices of ancestors,  perverse whispers of hate and grudges,   they are witness to our deception. They  know the gaps in our souls are filled with the same  darkness as theirs.  When we once again come face to face  they will  tell us how the hours passed so quickly.  You are that bird whose wings beat the air senseless, rainstorm eyes protest  a dream unlived. That perfect blue honey of desire you washed away in golden brown.  Swoop down, I miss the sound of you. Tell me how to survive beginnings.   Save me from this carousel,  my arms outstretched not knowing I am still  spinning.

 

62 thoughts on “Carousel

  1. Excellent dear Holly, your words never fail to take us upon a veritable journey that keeps us all spinning within your wonderful creative imagination..
    ” You are that bird whose wings beat the air senseless, rainstorm eyes protest a dream unlived. ” just where do those amazing words come from? Beautiful xxxx ❤

    Liked by 1 person

Comments are now closed.