Wings of the Eagle

Our bodies move in rhythm
But we can't hear the music.
We're moving to our hearts
Beating loudly against each other.

We move and we stand still
We are one with each other.
We're closer than ever before
Just you and me alone
On a crowded floor.

My hair is matted with sweat,
The same runs down my face.
I wipe it off with my hand,
Still swaying, not missing a beat.

Around us people push and shout,
They jump and scream and yell.
Some of them brush past us,
Others try to break us apart;
But we cannot feel them, lost
Within ourselves.

Our lips are locked.
The music stops and the sway
Slows until we are almost still.
Our friends look at us and laugh.

I steal a glance at the world,
People look upon us with disgust,
But I can see there is the gleam
Of jealousy they are trying to hide.
A deep wish to have what we have,
To have what is mine.

Our friends look on and smile.
They are not jealous, and they
Need not be. Some of them have
What we have in their own ways.

But nobody has quite what we have.
Like the Wolf who has the freedom
Of the forest, but not the wings
Of the Eagle.

The Clock

It does nothing but tick
And tock non-stop.
The hands turn and snap
Every minute into place.

They creak and strain
Like a beggar under his sack,
Dragging his life around
In a towel slung over his shoulder.

Nobody pays constant attention,
Not one person watches the clock
For the entirety of its life,
But it does not slack
Or break while we are not looking.

It toils on, all day
And all night.
And we never give it thanks.

Letting Go

You know what.
I'm tired of all this.
Tired of solving problems
Tired of unreasonable people
Tired of being hated for
Doing what I believe is right.

I give up! I quit!
I'm done. It's over.

I try and I try
And am I appreciated?
The hell I am.
I'm struck down,
I'm condemned.
I'm damned in my
Interference.

So have fun, my friends.
Your problems are
Your own problems now.

I'm free.