Am coming back to you on a wing of storm

Extract from this poem handwritten on the photo of a black and white seashore.

The soul, to me, is the intellect. Before, I didn’t need it, for I didn’t need to think that much, as my whole life had only been flesh and corporeal. But now that I need it more than everšŸ¤£, that I need to think a lot, because writing is an intellectual thing, isn’t it? I need to find my intellect againšŸ§, thus, this poetic metaphor, an ode to the mind.

Am 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
Am 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-

Published by Eiravel

Hello everyone, and welcome to my personal blog. This is a self-taught adventure in creative writing, craft that I am passionate about; learning writing and all the stuff that concerns this industry while surfing on the waves of the internet, and I aspire to make a living through selling my own books and blogging, because why not. I live on the island of Mauritius with my husband, my two children, and my muse. I am an eclectic person, love the sublime and the strange; I am also interested in all types and forms of art that please my mind.

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