Tall Spires

I look down
on a city
of dreams from  my
porthole in the sky with my
one baleful eye

and hear the sigh of
lives expiring, wisps
that linger burning brightly
hope thrown  keen
onto wind  -

their rush of fear, hardship, love
skim past ray one all-hearing
ear, their bruised passage
heading for infinity
heading for me

towards  truth
towards  the reason for
being, in their firing, the
clay bore the imprint of me -
my  returners from the spires.
Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem