There we were making rhythms,
jumping ahead of earth's own heart beat,
setting new time to our universe,
and we drank it in like warming wine.
We the children,
running to deserts,
pockets full of magic,
with whisky spirits and our souls in our
wings.
Us few the bold,
the brave trodden souls,
tobacco stinging bright our gypsy eyes,
kaleidoscopes reaching fingers through our minds
to stir our coloured dreams.
Our dusty hearts set aflame
by setting stars and shooting suns.
And here the sparks became our loves,
and so with them we danced up,
into airless skies and cloudless nights,
to make ash angles on moons,
and snowflakes of milky ways.
— a t t i cu s
Atticus Poetry
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ash-angels/
