fitzcaraldo (a poem)

[lacrimange]

there's a problem

♤

with the way

things are undone

in our world

there's a sound

♡

that isn't heard

by hoisted sun

or lowered moon

still air stirs

snow rains ice

fires smoke dust

tears lies pain. . .

there are burdens

♧

on our shoulders

we haven't earned

there are stones

♢

on the shore

that lie unbroken

this forest lives

by winter's glow

and spring's shadows

this city sleeps

by baby's breath

and time's abundance

this heart beats

by purest will

and surest way. . .

a thousand feathers

raise your phoenix

♧

no more than

a thousand breaths

spin your hurricane

so we take

to the calm

without any words

departing for home

breaking the chains

holding us down

going up stream

while we can

leaving past sins

mourning lost lands. . .

so we heave

and we haul

where we stand

side by side

shaking our heads

bearing our hearts

raising our fists

downing our pride

knowing feeling wishing

it weren't so

and it is . . .

there's a problem

♢

with the way

things are done

in our world

and our mountains

aren't easily moved

so we trust

as we must

shoulder god's ships

upon our backs

over new mountains

great and wide

ignoring his tears

neglecting our pains

hoping and daring

like every drop

in the sea

to find valhalla

far far away

some other name

some other day

some other side

of new mountains

a thousand feathers

raise your phoenix

♡

as sure as

a thousand breaths

spin your hurricane

though our hearts

aren't easily moved

(c)2014 _lacrimange