I’m coming back to you on a wing of storm
(an ode to the mind)

A sky teared, opened
A form, levitated, hovered
My body trembled, raptured
Everything around, fell down, so sad

I tried, likewise, to reach
But my mind, ran away, to a beach
But still, our link, unbroken
Our eye, remote, and hidden
I realized, my only pleasure, taken
You were lost, then thought, forsaken

Oh my feathery soul, I had to find you
Wherever you were, under that sky so blue
Am coming back to you, on a wing of storm
Tearing my flesh to find again your form
My corporeal, its core, was attracted, and gravitated
Around man-made planets, all, illusions

But now, that I have dragged myself out
I’m coming back to you, on a wing of storm
Ready to dive inside the cosmic ocean
There where without any attraction
We'll only float, carried by the current
Until we touch, and remember, what we have been.

-Eiravel-

This poetic metaphor is an ode to the mind. Before I indulged myself in writing and thinking hard about how to write and how to do this and that, I wasn’t using my brain for hard thinking purposes, I wasn’t even thinking for myself, on my own. Now it’s different, I have to remain entirely focused when I’m thinking about what to write, and when I’m writing; I need to use my brain to the max…