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One day he’ll return with shadows
Another tenebrous path travelled
Carrying what he witnessed, as proof.
Upon his stoic face and disheveled hair
He offers, insight to pain that lingers

She’ll guide, with an air of tranquility
And with the touch of her warm hand
So he may return to his appendages
Left in her care, a guard on sacred land

His weakened back holds exhaustion
A celestial stretch moving his limbs,
Proof of his immortal strength, passion
He rests shoulders upon steal pinions.

Feathers quaver, show fine onyx wings
His flesh returns, breathing tempers
Eyes open, now the colors of heaven
While his spirit continues to reenter

No different from journeys past
Of which there are, and will always be
Travel logs full of omnipotent distance
For he protects us all, yes, willingly

The tempo of their embrace will matter
Most of all. Echos of the time they lose
Forgotten. As the hum of his battle cry
Quiets. And their love begins to soothe

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29 thoughts on “

  1. Well beyond the mere corporal existence of he and she is
    a spiritual union or at least the wish for spiritual union
    and with that the poem takes on a wider dimension…
    and that union at the end is the ideal.

    Excellent work, Audrey; for me, deeply satisfying.

    jf

  2. Part of me always wonders what it must feel like to have wings, Audrey. I’m not talking about bird-wings, but angel-wings. The BIG ones, like on statues in our churches. You’ve given me lots to think about on a Saturday night with this beauty!

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