Legends are forged in a fire
few can stand to bear
multitudes may aspire
but only those that dare
to burn are wafted higher
above those unaware
how harsh the flame can be
and truly, they don’t care
they only long to see
their hero hanging there
as some ancient deity
awash in holy light
a symbol of humanity
ascending towards delight
without humility
despite the fact that clay
turns frail once thusly baked
and will be chipped away
like every heart that’s ached
to brave the kiln’s dismay.
Are You Reading Me?
2 comments:
I almost always have to read your poetry 3 times to glean everything I can. I cannot read it without paying attention! I think that's a good thing... I'm still mulling the title over.
Hey Donna, well sometimes I can't find or think of the exact word or phrase I want so I pick one that feels close, thanks a lot for commenting.
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