Drifting high on a gentle breeze
and grazing the tops of lofty trees,
watching below, all the people move
but there’s nothing left, up here, to prove.
Floating higher and into the clouds,
the sultry silence so deafeningly loud.
Throbbing pulse of a beating heart
as atoms pull; trying to drift apart.
Looking down upon an ailing world
with colourful rags held high, unfurled.
Smoke and mirrors all flashing by
bringing tears to lost and lonely eyes.
Euphoric visions in vacuous veins
flowing free like the soft spring rains,
humming deep down into my mind,
eyes now seeing, that once were blind.
Gliding up high and above the world,
watching the oceans as breakers are hurled.
Nothing now left but a drifting mist
rising from a life so barely missed.
Rolling over in the thinning air,
not a single worry; not a single care.
Watching above me, the twinkling stars,
worlds of wonder viewed from afar.
Mingling now with heavens grace
with the warmth of the sun upon my face.
Comets soaring overhead,
tails of crimson burning fiery red.
Feeling at peace with all that there is,
my being blending with eternal bliss,
free of the mind and free of the form,
the dawn of life where worlds are born.
Feeling a saddening pull; a turning point,
something is wrong and out of joint.
Shimmering stars are fleeing from view
as the lonely earth draws me back from the blue.
The trip was so short and yet so profound
but now I’m falling back down to the ground.
Don’t want to go back, I don’t want to land,
I don’t want to walk on the sullied sand.
Falling back down through the curling clouds,
planes roaring by, their voices so loud
as they spew their poisons, thick and strong,
a trail of death and deception, so long.
Leave me up here, I don’t want to meet
the tearful pain down beneath my feet.
Drifting so low now, beneath the trees
where birds should fly and honey bees.
As my aching feet reluctantly touch
the dying ground, it’s all too much.
The tears well up and trace a path
along a frowning face that would much rather laugh.
Waiting for my wings to once again stretch,
to leave behind the sorrow that is etched
upon a weary mind that just wants to be free,
grazing the tops of the lofty trees.
Written by Darren Scanlon, 23rd June 2014.
Revised on 22nd June 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.