Moistened eyes glisten
with memories not their own
as those who never knew
tell the stories they've heard
of darkness and danger
from a past, your past, they never lived.

Adoration and trust
poured into you, silent guardian,
tall and pristine as you rise against ebony horizons,
by the masses who see what they want;
man.u.f(r)actured comprehension
blooming between their ears.

If only they knew you like I...

Hollow core and echoes
down in the depths of your soul,
with empty stairs anyone can tread.

How distraught were they that thought
they wrought you for their purpose,
yet I know what your one eye sees.
Not warning, but mourning
as you wish to follow the gentle glide,
and answer the forlorn cry
of the free solitary spirits
that slide and glide without currents or tide
far above tiny white capped peaks.

You know every shifting valley
as if they were your own;
you've seen each one a thousand times.

Sometimes, when the winds blow strong,
I can hear your broken moans
as the very elements themselves strive to set you free;
I often cry with you.

I too, have seen your beauty
when the light inside shines through,
but I know that it's born of temporary hopes
rather than strength of will.
Not warning, but wanting,
not safety, but searching...

Bright eyes seeking the morning,
wishing to leap from your roots
and follow the paths of Kehaar
into lands untold,
yet shackled by the expectations
of a hundred generations.

Feet dangling o'er rocky shores,
I never feel safer than when you hold me
high above the pains of this world.


...wish I could set you (me) free.




Stoic, dependable, pinnacle of peace,
we're not so different, you and I.




Not standing, but steeping;
feet long entrenched,
my hollow heart cries for freedom as well.