I've Been High
everything is on fire
low lapping wolves
at wooden
doors
winter has turned strange
and in the quiet sits fear,
trembling blue
but I've been high,
stood on the roof of this world,
looked down at what looks like
make believe
cried to the heavens,
cursed at the stars
the ravaged, stoic moon
over both shoulders
with its eternity of travails
left unspoken
speaking volumes,
shining soft white, silver light
upon the inevitable coming calm
and its ladder back through clouds
i climb down, descending, determined
to wade the boiling, roiling waters,
walk the blackened, broken land
and though
the wolves still bay
off in the distance,
fear somehow stands,
its pale face transformed
by soot and sorrow,
and walks on into a night
still ablaze, shoulders broad
and parting a sea of smoke
and uncertainty, unafraid at last
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