Walking in Circles

Looking out across the valley,

I thought of the stars that had fallen

And come to rest in the dried-up river bed

Winding its way through the long grass.

I thought of the ambitions

Nursed and raised by humans

That gave their spirits sustenance.

The wind whistled by.

Standing on the crest of a hillock,

I pondered on the dreams

That I had once had and cherished,

Like spools of golden thread

That would unwind before me and lead me

Out of the Minotaur’s maze.

.

Those dreams have burnt out and fallen, just like the stars.

And I have only my own two feet to lead me out of my past.

But from this desolate state, ambitions stir and awake,

And I am glad to be standing, relieved of my dreams, back at the start.

.

.

.

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This entry was published on December 28, 2012 at 9:32 PM. It’s filed under Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

write the fox

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