The Wings Of Fate – Poem

Half built walls of bar and stone
Echo from a soundless space
Berthed high, upon eagles dare
Ethereal, wingless, mountain’s eyre.

A long plateau of sky’s abode
Visions eye, clouds below
Blinding colors, concealed by mist
Obscuring land, beneath its midst

A site, ere indistinctly wrought
Lacking rhyme, of souls’ deep sought
Beckoning to its call, illusion
For peace, paradox, fantasy’s allusion

A wingless sun’s moving tale
An aerial of formless trail
Until night’s arrow, the sphere of “Re”
Olympus’s haunt, obeying gods’ reverie
Borne upon the wings of fate

The Wings of Fate