Gabriell Riley


Nothing to Be Done


What can be done when metaphors fly on the wings of birds
Like fairies as they glide through the winter winds
On wing and prey and flame of night air
To distant places that are touched by silver moonlight
Nothing can be said to those who sing of adventure or romance in prose
To bohemians that sit and discuss logic of politics
or debate the science of magic
These wizard like men of wrinkled forehead and tired chin
None can be seen through the veil that clouds judgement
And mists over the precautionary tales
Of those who flew and sang and saw
The mystery that lay behind wonderlands door

Submitted: Monday, April 08, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, October 09, 2013

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