A featherless bird.

 How close has I come to knowing where I want to go?

The chaos this life holds enhanced by the urge to fall eternally, unapolagetically, in love.

I dwell upon the swinddling of the feathers on a bird. 

The softness of the breeze of the crisp November cold.

I stare into the tiny flames burning in my bedroom

While the sun makes its way back home

While I fall in love with the eyes that lay sight upon my words

With the men who awarded our history with the clashing

the breaking of bones. 

How close have I been to truly, deeply falling in love

With anything other than my ideas

Other than my desire to explore new worlds

I have swam to the edges of lifetimes ago

Through the seas of desire

To find and innocent thought on an abandonded shore

How am I to love without loosing what I am before

Maybe the art is in the letting go

In abandoning the treasure I cling to my chest

Abandoning the me who came before.