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Rain King (The Wings of Blackbirds)The Wings of Blackbirds(Brian Michael Tracy) Come, let us measure the distance between shores. For if we measure the distance between shores we may become the wings of blackbirds. Feel the acrid wind release us from the salty mist the empty rooms of our lighthouse where we pace the floors warming our hands with rosaries and rhinestones. Fly to the cliffs where the tides keep our graves and flowers fade in death’s impatient vase. ~~ Come, let us find new wind new colors of the wind, green - wind full of tears from the eyes of children mourning the landscape gold - wind turning tears to snow above our wings white - wind that whispers to the child hush, do not cry your soul is a lullaby singing to me. ~~ White, let us fly into white. White hills, white rivers, white water on the sea white ash when we return white ash when we leave. White flowers in the snow snow that mourns the child birds that mourn the flowers ash that fills the vase. ~~ Come, let us sail with the sound of wind and listen to the tenor of the tides, the songs of children inside our sails. Take the ocean to our lips and play as if it were a saxophone as if we were drowning as if the moon was all that could float without wind, without wings. |