He Never Had Wings, by J. W. Cassandra

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He Never Had Wings,
by J. W. Cassandra

No matter, what you carried here,
No matter, what you are:
Your fate is mere lives broken on the wheel,
You are waited by mere nightmare:

If you lived yet for many years,
Maybe your eyes open to it:
There are mere lives put to the sword’s edge,
And remains your bare firmament:

But the fall doesn’t hurt you,
Nor the silence of oblivion,
It’s just hurt what you had not been
For you are broken on the wheel…

Or you had been a rocket,
And you became only space debris –
A silent psalm is sung for you,
Hear its hell-message!

There are too many lives broken on the wheel,
Too many who had been put to the sword,
Though, you’re on the island of peace –
Yet existence, this illusion casts you out,

You are embraced by waves of oblivion,
Like by a silent watery grave,
Angel wings do not raise you up,
Only your bitter self-accusation cries….

And your tears mingle only
In a swamp instead of heavenly choir,
Who is fiddled for by the Star,
He falls down: he never had wings…

Though your broken wings dangle,
Raise them, don’t let them dangle in vain!
Although your soul only weeps,
Oh, raise your broken wings!

06/03. 2021., by J. W. Cassandra

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J. W. Cassandra

About the Author: J. W. Cassandra

I’m a teacher and a registered author either, at Artisjus as a writer and a poet in Hungary. I love forests, butterflies, flowers.

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