The world is warm and the air is soft
As I am in my heated home
Yellow from the dying lights
Attached to a slowly rotating fan.
The blades will never go anywhere
Except around the fan
Even during the rare case that their direction is switched.
The warmth embraces me, says, “don’t go outside, you will die!”
However, heat is not a necessity in life
In addition, it steals from me the chance of adventure.
I steal away out the door and play my music
This music to me is the magic in life
And the surrounding of the world.
All dark and moon-lit
The world is cold,
Icy.
The air pierces my face
I smile and sit upon my heaven swing.
My ears burn and my fingers are bit
Yet I swing on my heaven swing
Up into the starry host.
The more I swing, the more I fly,
The more I feel I touch the sky.
The higher I swore
I lose every lore
That has been attached
To me for so long.
Too long.
The wind on my face
I’m flying, I’m flying.
It bites me and stings me
I’m dying, I’m dying.
But dying in such a marvelous way
Living forever is dying away
Away from the earth and away to the stars
I’m flying, I’m flying, I’m flying, I’m flying…
And I leap from my swing-
My heaven swing-
Fly. Fly. Fly. Fall.
Land.
Broken.
I lie on the ground
And gaze at the stars
So many stars…
The heavenly host.
My heaven swing gone
I lie there
In the frost
The ice grass is melting
At the warmth of my body.
I stare at the moon and it blinds me,
I close my eyes
And drift away
Into a cold,
winter night’s heaven.
