The Nature of Wings

Purposefully alienated,
Most of those around me,
Finished with purposelessness,
And idiot quandaries,
The greatest joy,
Found in solitude,
Fulfilled in learning,
And in the joys of family,
And meditation,
In meditations,
(Alone.)
The Summum Bonum,
Is this the most profound bliss,
Is this the sought after "it";
Contentedness?

For,
There may be so much underneath,
The veil, under the veil,
(over the veil, over the rainbow,
O, Peroketh)
Sheath in teeth,
Blade drawn like bow,
Arrow in the heart,
Of the serpent,
Below,
Behold the blood,
Not yet spent,
Hilt in hand,
Brushing poison,
Poisoned,
Poisoned,
Sadness,
Moistened,
Moistened,
Moistened,
Reduce them to liquids,
To mere concepts of,
Some primordial substance,
For they are not to be taken personally,
Poisoned just poison,
And you, are not me,
Each and every one seems so jaded,
So out of Love,
Cannot deny the longing,
For something deeper below,
Or higher above,
Our current circumstance,
Mourning romance,
In the pyre of,
Love,
Lost a very long time ago,
And yet,
'Tis alive, well
Will die trying,
You, and our timing,
Still alive,
It just seems.........
It just seems like something's gonna die...........

Everyone's fucked, but me,
So I will turn inward,
As a bird, I will sing,
Until this reflection,
Breaks me free,
To see the colour back,
In the others,
Impartial,
But for the joy,
Of the nature of wings,
And of beauty.