Off Course
I had a dream…
It’s about a falcon…
Goodbye and welcome
He seldom took flights
He was the upper class
He booked flights
But, in his book
Not a thing was wrong with the cuckoo’s nest he lived in
He already filmed it
He could read people’s minds…
… in his train of thought
He thought
… Be smart, reborn
And these scars will be gone…
Off course
Of course, he convinced himself that he’s wrong
And right when left alone
He’s already old
His pastime included measuring past time
And cherishing pleasures that passed by
He was that blind
Obsessed with death and mass mind state
He couldn’t take a rest
Put his development under arrest
Just to rest in peace and find grace
Self-proclaimed saint…
With the self-inflicted pain…
Selfish was his name
Baptized in his shame he withered in the rain
He’s a loser and a winner
And neither
It’s the same
He’s a falcon… A high-spirited one… Once
Not something gravity should change
Photo: Jürgen Dietrich / Wikimedia Commons
Months ran their loop…
If they slipped on a piece of his mind
They’d still probably be spiraling down a black hole’s spine…
No rhyme intended
He would peek through this hole
He wanted a key… A solution… A closure
His beak was circumcised by noise-polluting vultures
Pretending
To be the part of his culture’s inventions
Thin line, almost transparent,
Between his reflection and a mirror
So he indented it
For the clearance
When I woke up
He started his dream voyage…
There were feathers all around my sea cottage.