'A Corruption Of Wings'

What if my wings of thought
were the wings of God,
shadow-less, guiltless
behind me?

I would skim across
the skin of the world,
hope feathered in the wind.

My life, for all lives
so that every day has a meaning.

But the mirror, like my reflections
reveal a shouldered void —
neither light nor glamour;
no softness from the fall.

Where is my own hope?
I see and sense nothing at all.


@heurism You do make me smile, and that is a gift for me.

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