Histories

Searching for futures now so long passed by;

obscured by pasts somewhere up in the sky.

Where do I stand when I sit here alone?

Where will I go now that I am full grown?

My feet touch the ground where though am I?

Are my wings clipped so I no longer fly?

Or are they still there but now hidden from view?

This and so much more I wish that I knew.

At times I’m an orphan of days now long passed;

the product of shadows so long ago cast.

The light of the future makes yesterday’s shade;

that time in our lives when history was made.

But history’s only some words on a page;

it’s just one more form of life’s gilded cage.

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About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri
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