Flight Poem by jim hogg

Our brother's in the river,
and he's swimming up the falls,
while Solomon's out dancing
in the arms of Russian Dolls;
the singers croon by bogus moons,
beneath the cannon-balls,
and egos scratch eternity
behind their crumbling walls.

The purest army of them all
steps forth to shed some light;
they're wired to an ancient plan;
their eyes are filled with sight.
They're in a dream, they're in their teens,
their hearts are full of fight.
They'll change the world, they'll change themselves,
they're noble cause in flight.

But history's an ocean,
full of everything to come.
The enemy hides everywhere,
in culture and in love.
They're pulling strings, they're charming kings,
they hear a different drum;
they'll pledge allegiance to your truth
and wash it down with blood.

The journey starts, the journey ends
and somewhere in between,
the parallels begin to bend;
we drift away unseen.
We fly or fall, we lie or call,
we play the game for real,
and far beyond the sunlit pools
we start to doubt the dream.

The fledgling bird must flee the nest
to face the lures and traps.
Another voice, another hall,
another truth elapsed.
We draw our swords, we break the cords,
and slip behind our masks;
and brother, sister, brother
fail each other's breaching hearts.

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