The Eclectic Bound
Tis with the shadowed lights I run,
Our hearts beating a rhythm
that resonates through out the perpetual
We are of the same feather but not the same
Bound by the class in which our egos we hold.
People only take to those who understand them, after all.
Transcendient wings ghost our shoulder blades
and a dull thob pulsates betwixt.
Eyes flutter shut then flash wide open
as hermit fingers grasp for that which is
beyond the eternal soul.