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tommy-liddell:

My spirit sways like
wind in the meadow;
weightlessly tiptoeing on the highest hill.
My
burning heart rages furiously amidst the storm clouds above.

A primal scream hushed
by howling wind;
praying in the voice of dancing flames.
I am
not the one I once was.

It is a king and a
queen,
whose cloudy-eyed gaze desperately plead for answers.
It
is a master and a hound,
their glazed bodies of pale clay collect
tears like rain drops on a lotus leaf.
It is a fool and a raven,

gathered to rest under
the arches of a weeping willow.

The sickle weighs oh so
heavy,
as heavy as a heart.