Wine in the wind

 I scale the jagged crags on wings of whispered verse,

and strew my path with beauties freshly born.
Unhindered I invade the marble palaces,
armed with weapons forged within this mortal frame.


I draw the gleaming sword from its ancient sheath,
and pierce the tyrant’s heart with keenest blade;
I sever every cable of his fragile throne,
and watch his trembling empire fade to shade.
Like eagles I ascend on currents of pure thought,
where coruscating gleams of insight dance and play.


I drink the silent music of the waking world,
and roam through fierce, uncharted shades in search of hidden jewels.
Though pulses quicken with the chill of fear or doom,
I stand caparisoned in courage, undismayed.
I see vast legions trapped within their frantic race,
blind to the filth that stains their fleeting days.


Oh, that they might awaken while the ink still flows
how brief the hour, how vague these shadowed moments!
Yet poetry, in her quiet majesty,
captures but a chosen few, and lets the rest drift on.