Swing, Swing


Sometime around the beginning
of the end of time,
or perhaps the middle.
And it was there, the swing.
At least, that’s what it seemed
or seemed not to be.
Called, beckoned
like twisting vines,
and sprinkled stars,
with hope intertwined.
It danced a new slang,
and I was found.

The ground stood beneath me,
with not one way to escape.
Unblinking,
wary,
the fervor and sweat
of approaching the inevitable.
Hands ablaze, feeling their way,
leaving trails.
And I tamed those twisting vines.
Clutched,
grasped, gasped,
gleefully,
petrified.
And suddenly, I felt the earth.
Reborn,
roaring,
guffawing loudly
at its gullet with gilded lilies and roses.

I, eternally capable,
immersed,
lost to victory,
lusting,
evermore, I became.
One, one,
another one.
I flew and left my wings far behind.

Advertisements

Thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s