Steel Hill / chanzo greenidge

Steel Hill by Twylight Seven

And when at last a thought does fly,
I, Poet, fire missing words
And whisper gestures to the sky,
Risking life among the birds.
And when these birds of heaven die,
And hills of sugar wash away,
I, Pan, come to sweetly cry,
Burying now my fallen prey.
.
I Poet, the haunted hunter, hunt
The cynic’s soul; the lover’s mind,
Unleashing dogged faith in front
And aiming upwards ride behind.
And when at last I leave the chase,
Hands in cold valleys, swinging low
I scoop hope from the river’s face,
Ahead, another hill to go.

•••

•••