Even fire protected us when we were young
Lightning blessed the roots of our tongue
Silence stunned our thoughts some way
Our souls awakened to singing each day
Our sun then set before it truly rose
Our poetry turned into difficult prose
Our choices landed us somewhere stale
We boarded a ship that had lost its sail
Wonders seemed to cease as we got old
Each year was dull; just as foretold
Can longing for sun exceed the earth’s sighs?
Can spirit descend in a life full of lies?
Will we still worship the thought of things?
Or dare unfurl our mightier wings?