Journey


I want tomorrow today
Even if it means abdicating
My castle in the sky
I want to smell the acrid scent of truth


Let the north wind
Be held in abeyance
The harp absolve all acridity
I dance high in the rain
Of poignant tears


Be this a lucid dream
And not a laconic fairytale

©  blisschild.com 2006, text by rachel. All rights reserved.