furthermore

Musings

I carry my life on my back like a turtle
Wishing for wings where none will grow
My eyes have seen darkness
And shapes lined with that first, fleeting gold
I was never young, only smaller
Much less of a muchness, as it were
I was born old, and have only grown older
I am made of magic and star-stuff
Stitched together with a needle of pain
My hands are grasping, wanting
My mind is distant, my heart locked up
I was never of the Earth
I was only ever visiting
But I was trapped my by a longing
That reached back through the centuries
And forward through the eons
I am magnificent, beneath my skin
I am a work of art, but only from the inside
I bleed colors so vibrant they make me cry
I am a rainbow, a prism, a spectrum
So much of me is invisible
That I sometimes feel I could fade away
And vanish into memory
I am a story half told, unfinished, barely written
Just words on the page
Nothing more