My life is currently filled with empty space. How ironic that I felt more at home when I was homeless (see my poem Dust), than now, when I am at home...
The Landing (The Lost Kingdom)
The cloud,
A formless palace in the sky,
Drifts by in the haze of this fleeting dreamworld:
Out the window that keeps me separate
From the freedom of its emptiness
As if to enter it's glittering void of star and city light
Would immediately dissolve it into its own abyss...
Consecrated by this boundary
This metal bubble drifts through
This most intangible of kingdoms:
Empire for the passing bird
Who never stop here
To make their home
But ride along the fallow winds
That blow in this world of transition.
How I long
To join the darkened skies,
And drift among the passing clouds:
To live forever in the flux and flow
Of the homelessness of empty space.
But I am not asleep tonight
As dreams fly me outside this shell
Made of flight and metal hollow
To the wind's cry in my new domain.
But ground draws me towards its wake
For dreams that flew me from its grasp
As my world falls from me like a stone
And from this,
My kingdom
I stand overthrown.
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