Oh Swan,
You're whiteness scares me,
The purity of feather goes together,
With the purity sought,
By fallen man,
Once his soul was lost.
Oh Swan,
Could I ever aspire,
To describe the desire,
Of saying what you really are?
The everlasting pure white choir,
Of a floating star.
When I think you cannot rise any higher, you prove me ever so wrong. With these two stanzas, you taken on the history of the struggle of good and evil and the blessings that one single piece of the creation can shower on our soul. You make your reader feel like we can rise. You have such an awesome command of words- -just look at what you can say with them- - Oh Swan, Could I ever aspire, To describe the desire, Of saying what you really are? The everlasting pure white choir, Of a floating star. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -they are just simple words, words you can find in a dictionary, and what do you do? you weave them into new patterns, new meanings, you make them into new messengers of beauty and of glory, .. Word-weaver. That should be your new name. Such an eloquent, exquisite, and elegant piece of white purity you present here. 10 but I would give it a million.
A beautiful piece, Sandra. Perhaps such creatures are meant to be enjoyed in the moment and not described
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love bird poems- and this one hasn't had its feathers clipped. It soars. A floating star- beautiful!