Rivers of struggle run through your veins
Cold, smooth, calculated-
Your eyes that stare and grind and pound the world into dust
Gold dust and rust upon your skin
Desert sands reflected there-
Hot and pungent in the distance of your regal memories
Somewhere in there…
Mirror-like yet not reflecting-
Inflecting the hurt and the loss-
The crystalline splendor of your hopes
Washed out on the stream of dreams-quietly waiting
A predator in search of game
Each spot on your body representing a star in the sky
Liquid and Languid and Quick with your spear-
Your feet pounding the urban landscape-eyes narrow
Focused on the mirage-the Promised Land beyond the smog
That drifts further with each weary step
Only to reappear and mock your wide features-
Opened to the world but closed:
Barred from understanding the subtleties of the North Wind…
You trudge up slivers of clouds
And rest your head there
Your wings tired…
Your hands bare…
You leave your sons behind leaning dangerously
Over the plentiful river of nothings.

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