Through the veil ( Poetry )

The Roots and The Wings

Lying on our back since birth

We grow the roots to drink,

The memories, the water, life,

All we require to think.

Gazing upon the skies

We pray our prayers reach them,

To summon back the rain.

The earth cracks

While we're waiting,

We are waiting in vain.

To save the strength till rain will come,

Or ease into their deaths,

Many of us will slumber still

Into the mind's gray depths.

Looking around, I see but one

Who seems to have gone mad.

He thrashes, bites and pulls his roots,

Others just sleep instead.

At long last after struggling hard

He manages to rise.

In spite of his old, heavy chains,

In spite of his demise.

With clear eyes and a faint smile,

Though watered in his blood,

From head to toes,

So still it flows, but in the end -

He stands!

He lifts and stands,

And on his back are his own broken roots,

The same ones that he thrashed and bit,

Scars of his own pursuits.

Scars that were fed so deep with blood

Now spread branches and grow,

Into the wings with feathers,

Leaves, of a red subtle glow.

From roots to wings,

From ground to skies,

Through pain, effort and blood,

He seeks to live and not to die,

He seeks to movebeyond.