There we were making rhythms, <br /> jumping ahead of earth's own heart beat, <br />setting new time to our universe, <br /> and we drank it in like warming wine. <br /> <br /> We the children, <br />running to deserts, <br />pockets full of magic, <br /> with whisky spirits and our souls in our <br />wings. <br /> <br /> Us few the bold, <br />the brave trodden souls, <br /> tobacco stinging bright our gypsy eyes, <br /> kaleidoscopes reaching fingers through our minds <br /> to stir our coloured dreams. <br /> <br /> Our dusty hearts set aflame <br />by setting stars and shooting suns. <br /> And here the sparks became our loves, <br /> and so with them we danced up, <br /> into airless skies and cloudless nights, <br />to make ash angles on moons, <br /> and snowflakes of milky ways. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> — a t t i cu s<br /><br />Atticus Poetry<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ash-angels/
