The Blues Of My Vernal Equinox… Poem by Mark Heathcote

Have I again flown to the edge of the world?
Like Icarus have I winged too close to the sun?
Have I reached my boiling point and unfurled.
Shall I return like a prodigal son?

Fallen-out of good grace did I go mad—
Cause I didn't love myself long enough to belong.
With the weight of my numbness, did I glide forbad
Of my own. loves reflection to play along

Am I a dark scaffold, looking to shine?
Envelop my every silver lining cloud.
Am I the asylum's prayers ready to resign?
Where do I fly to I'm not disavowed?

If only, I was an ear of golden corn
I too might have found a love for me adorn.