gray featherd wings with Purple underwing,, with a scaled gray body, Claws of onix, eyes that change. What am I?
knowing your faults is not a weakness but a strength
dried rose's for the dead, still trying to find out what I am.
if someone wants to help me they can,
it rains when I am sad/angry/depr
when I cant see the risen moon on the blank days I ache,
the fog makes me want to dance,
the wind is the only one that is willing to hold my hand,
everyonw seems to be on the inside of the glass for exeptoin of me... but it is funny because I am not cupping my hands around the glass to look in. Looking out to the world with a seers gaze waiting for something.
My actoins are quiet with the ones around me,
speaking to those whom only interest me.
I believe backstabbers should be slaughterd on the spot.
I live by my sword more then people for it has never lied.
I am seeking for something true and that I have been denied,
but I feel that I have to know what I am before I seek any longer.
so what am I?
A Requiem
Ay, pal and silent maiden,
Cold as thou liest there,
Thine was the suniert nature
That ever drew the air;
The wildest and more wayward,
And yet so gently kind,
Thou seemedest but to body
A breath of summer wind.
Into the eternal shadow
That girds our life around,
Into the infinite silence
Wherewith Death’s shore is bound,
Thou hast gone forth, beloved !
And I where mean to weep,
That thou hast left Life’s shallows,
And dost possess the Deep.
Thou liest low and silent,
Thy heart is cold and still,
Thine eyes are shut forever,
And Death hathhad his will;
He loved and would have taken,
I loved and would have kept,
We strove,-- and he was stronger,
And I have never wept.
Let him possess thy body,
Thy soul is still with me,
More sunny and more gladsome
Than it was wont to be:
Thy body was a fetter
That bound me to the flesh,
Thank God that it is broken,
And now I live afresh !
Now I can se thee clearly;
The dusky cloud of clay,
That hid thy starry spirit,
Is rent and blown away;
To earth I give thy body,
Thy spirit to the sky,
I saw its bright wings growing,
And knew that thou must fly.
Now I can love thee truly,
For nothing comes between
The senses and the spirit,
The seen and the unseen;
Lifts the eternal shadow,
The silence burst apart,
And the soul’s boundless future
Is present in my heart.
By James Russell Lowell