The Curl Of Wings

All the moments are gathered
for a second's sigh;
for just a glimpse of something:
Anything to give reason
to the emotions tangled within,
and it's never enough, never enough,
I need a minute or maybe longer;
beautiful/painful time.
Memory-that stranger in a smile,
it calls the syllables of birth,
floating in a name: Decision,
where is the peace now?

The curl of wings flutter,
slip away from here,
from the wide-open spaces
to the tight-packed fear,
and somehow the dreams
of silence will whisper
songs of love across
the light that ripples dear.

Everywhere is left cold-waiting
on the turn of a broken heart,
there are demons and angels flowing
through the clouds which shiver;
transfixed, the rain just keeps pounding
against the rivers surfing lies
that rip the skin's breath
into madness; the sky's sweet glow,
and the wonder of sorrow, oh
the fantastic scenes behind lashes;
capturing the visions of yesterday.

The curl of wings flutter,
slip away from here,
from the wide-open spaces
to the tight-packed fear,
and somehow the dreams
of silence will whisper
songs of love across
the light that ripples dear.