The Flier

Fully charged and all but bare
Aside from the stuffed bird in his hair
Skillfully preserved it’s wings spread
Slowly dancing around the fire, he sings
His arms stretched like soaring wings
A journey to the realm of the dead

Another memory from so long ago
I can clearly remember the fire’s glow
Magical night in a wild remote place
From there to here, into another time
Scratched upon paper, put into rhyme
Fading from the page, leaving no trace

From here to there, ever going somewhere
No bonds to break, no relations to tear
Not beholden to foreign gods, kings or queens
Soaring over lofty tree tops and ever higher
Arms spread out like wings, dances the flier
Over blue mountains and cloud shrouded scenes

Thoughts swirling like whirlwinds in my head
While the flier softly conversed with the dead
In a strange tongue from a forgotten time
With a hawk’s cry, he leaped over the flames
Looking into the outer darkness, invoking names
Of wild elder spirits never to be used in rhyme

Spirits of the dead and those still living
Truthful to each other in times of misgiving
Even more so through dark days of pain
And feverish nights of maddening unrest
While in the company of ghostly guests
From there to here, never to remain