The Problem With Immortality

This poem was about something, and then it became about something else so I went back to change the bits that didn’t make sense any more, and now I’m frustrated because I wanted to write something that was a certain thing and instead I have a thing that’s neither here nor there and basically collapsing under the weight of its own allegory and ugh.

Oh well.

The Problem With Immortality

I, PheoSphinx, firebreather and stormbringer

Succumb to inevitable tragedy.

When the sound of weather

Against city walls

Drowns out breaking glass and beating wings

And the fire in my eyes and heart spills over so

That even I am dizzy with the might of it -  

Ah! Sweet mystery.

In the hours before I scream down the sky

Dreams weigh heavy

Of forgotten futures

And never-pasts.

For I am among them but not of them.

In a crowd of thoughts that I recognize, but cannot reach;

Alas.

All journeys are the same; I am the same

Back and forth through the years

Seasons change and I roar back again

Enlightenment

Is solving the riddle of the abyss

And continuing.