Love's Wings

Love’s wings have flown away from me
Alighting in another tree
Like a somber bird, has gone away
Taking words I daren’t say
I’ve lost my heart, pieces torn and scattered
Of all the things that never really mattered
I can’t forget that fateful day
When love took wing and flew away

They Call Her Rebel

They call her Rebel. She stands alone in her room with the music turned up, raging against the world and things she can’t explain. She retreats into herself, lost in the beat of the drums. She dances to escape. Every feeling within her is beginning to take shape. Swelling thunderheads tower above like an anvil waiting to drop. Sinister urchins, rude and poised, push their lumpish forms into the sky. They fight with a languorous air that grapples the innocent and corrupts the fair. Her heart pounds with the clouds and the drums match their rhythms. Ardent, she moves faster, more intense. I call her Abandoned.


They call her Rebel. The haughty storm overwhelms, menacing and wicked. Drowning in the music and the pain her black and purple hair flies as she punches the ground, a scream tearing from her lips. If you looked into her eyes, past the circles and eyeliner, you would find lusterless and hollow creatures masking the fear and the passion and the fire, shrieking in their cage. A surly manner helps her deal with the unfairness in our world. Constantly on offense to keep from being on defense she battles with sarcasm and cynicism. Everyone and everything she touches stings her. I call her Hurt.


They call her Rebel. Exhaustion threatens to overcome her, but she fights it harder still. So many questions she has for them all, but they turn away before she can ask. Comprehension stands just outside her reach taunting her with every pounding headache it brings. Bright lights blind her and try to force her away, chaos and all her minions tease her in her wretched state. No more! No more! Please leave her be! She becomes an animal. Forgotten are the questions she once had, now is only hate. No amount of understanding can bring her back, it’s too late. I call her Confused.


They call her Rebel, but they don’t understand that the reason she is, is completely in their hands. They created her and use her like a puppet hung from strings. They’ve beaten her down and shredded her wings. Crushing her spirit, they don’t even see that she only wants them to give her the key. Begging and pleading then angry she becomes. They cast her off and throw her in the slums. How long will she fight and when will she give in? As they call her Rebel, so I call her Them.

Xerakees

A soft breeze floated over and under on its winding path with the currents. It gently lifted and displaced a tendril of curly, golden, hair from his silky face. The curls tumbled about over pointed ears, so fine tuned that he heard things miles before they could be seen. The fairest elf in all the land stood poised on the cliff top overlooking the majestic sea. The crashing surf generated peace instead of fear, seducing all who came near into an undeniable sense of wellbeing. A royal circlet adorned his noble brow with a tear drop sapphire that appeared to trickle down his crown to meet carefully knit eyebrows, not too bushy and not too thin which dictated a peaceful expression. Slanted, cat-like, eyes gave him a look of pure serenity that beckoned with an air of confidence that none could resist. They were the most vibrant blue and deeper than all the seas in all the worlds, able to see farther than a falcon’s. The Elvin cheekbones were high like a well bred lady but masculine and strong. Smooth rippling skin, so soft flowed into lips that seemed thin yet full simultaneously. His smile was reassuring and gentle when at peace and firmly resolute when provoked. A prominent chin though not dominating completed his angelic face. Prince among princes, Xerakees floated when he walked like a feather always drifting on a puff of air. A tunic and wrap around cloak of untainted white covered his slim yet sturdy figure, and holding the billowing folds in place were a wide leather belt and an enormous, plain, round buckle. His feet were clad in the most sought after hide, which came from a platypus.