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