You grow up into the cold night, into it and, wanting it, you see a bonfire. By nature you feel you were made off it, like a fine piece of silver steel. But, craving it, the fire can only be a distant one, so you never actually get to touch it. To grow up like that in this world, my friend, though not as simple as these few words are, is what makes us appreciate the sun when we see one.
#ts #kbts
#ts #kbts
We were flying through
The dried fields at dawn,
Sang with others too
The sweet chorus of dawn.
We saw men work the power station,
You pointed at them with your wing.
Must, they had forgotten their blue wearing,
And the station bursted with fire, and all was gone.
That was long ago, and none of it has been;
Not the station, nor the city lights, nor the men.
O my love, where are they, poor fellows,
Quiet roar of power, sweet blur of field wonder?
I ask not out of fear or sorrow,
But in dark, deep wonder.
#ts #pgnt #lts
The dried fields at dawn,
Sang with others too
The sweet chorus of dawn.
We saw men work the power station,
You pointed at them with your wing.
Must, they had forgotten their blue wearing,
And the station bursted with fire, and all was gone.
That was long ago, and none of it has been;
Not the station, nor the city lights, nor the men.
O my love, where are they, poor fellows,
Quiet roar of power, sweet blur of field wonder?
I ask not out of fear or sorrow,
But in dark, deep wonder.
#ts #pgnt #lts