The Cycle

"The Cycle"

Breaking free,
I rise amid the dawn's aura-
the hushed glory of a new, unpolished day.

Soaring even,
warm drafts bear me steadily-
on towards quicksilver clouds and gunmetal fantasies.

Slipping quietly,
the lukewarm mist of apathy rises-
the horizon where despair meets hope... all too close.

Landing hard,
I pick gingerly through a shrapnel forest-
wings folded, head bowed, wandering vainly in search of anesthesia.

Hope rising,
warm sunlight bringing whispers of better days-
heart and wings lift at the knowledge that I may soon be

Breaking free...