Requiem

I stared up into the tower of mercy. Back to the splintering rods of rails I had once known. The grass, long since silent, covered in asphalt was still within my eye and somehow still breathing comfortable ‘neath the weight of all our loss.

 I undressed my seams to the holy shrine, like a victim Holocaust. Presented my gold in the final hour of bread; yet hunger of life growing daily in the claws of my belly. Toward the flowers of people and their memories that glowed I breached the wish of death calling out into anger, without which this life will hold you in the robes of a hostage; ignorant of even your own mortal cause.

 Like a freed beast I was no longer bound with ropes nor sentenced but by alone by my internal forces where I saw distant origins void of any worth. Instead I was granted my hours, Caulfield with my hat forced under the sea until my wounds scarred over from the salt of air; yet no redemption was I ever expecting to regain.

 All this I bled from covered eyes. Ghostly regarded I fought for my simple passion. As all kingdoms must have their king so every cross must bear its lover. And thus I chose and walked my carriage grounds unseen.  A wave, carried away from illusion. This once loving warrior nailed to a postal of peace.

 

And thus my blood warmed alone in the stillness of the tall breathing grass where I watched with tears indelible the wing kissed winds of the bird.

Their endless call to flight.

It was then and only then that I truly cried.

A ghostly bound life in wander.