9 September 2015

Birds of Ill

They’ll follow any being carried away by
the winds of tumult, these ominous things
that hang in flight till a creature dies
at length.

And is it in the life of us
to turn against these pinions of demise?
Renegades born under a dying day
they’ll follow any being
across the landscape of survival.

But we are all children under this house,
different organs to the same spirit;
pressed against the wall and menaced
by the shadow of wingspans, is it in the life of us
to withstand?

Gnarled under hunger, demented eyes holes,
they have put that lading upon our souls.