The white eagle

We came together,
As strangers,
With painted feathers
In different colors.

One glance in each other’s eyes,
Weaved a unique tapestry.

A masterpiece
Between tied feathers,
Hard to wash away.

Blue sky questioned,
Our intention,
No answer arrived.

The wild horses,
Run through fields,
After the untouched mere.
The seductive play
Of pull, flirt and lust,
Between the opposites .

Not very late,
Our essence touched,
In a secret way,
Our souls met in a one place.
You moved into my nest,
All happened,
Under the quiet sky.

What have you done to my sleep?
I used to have dreams,
You kept me awake,
All day long,
At nights,
Helpless and aroused,
You covered my impatience,
In blanket of light,
Under the magic of moon and stars.

Sleep, became a history,
Forgotten by wonders of your kisses,
Oh, the warmth of your feather,
Your passion constantly refused
To adjust its fire.

Driven by wilderness of ancestor’s blood
In your eagle’s vein,
In hunt of your prey
You pushed me to edge of fly.

I lost my balance,
Fell on the hard ground,
Under an apple tree.
From there,
Eyes could only look up.
My crushed body,
Lied under the tree unmoved,
Soul on a mission,
To recollect the lost connection of light
Between native tribes.
New pilgrim on the emerald way
To meet the Wizard.

Memory returned,
With a bag full of herbs,
To heal my heart,
To restore my faith.

A broken eagle,
Prisoner on earth,
Caged into her fears
To honor the shame,
I painted my feathers in white.

I buried you,
Between space and dust
On a traveler wind
On her way to north.
Sealed with love.

Fed by the kind tree,
Tasted the apple of wisdom,
Light returned to my eyes,
Strength back to my wings.
I became a free eagle
From all kind of fear.

I flew back to my nest,
Found colored feathers everywhere,
Untied threads.

Sat on lilac cushion,
With a heart is silence,
I, the white eagle,
Neither alive, nor dead,
Made a vow to never sleep,
Only live the dream.

Eyes blinked once, twice
I saw you, returned to our nest,
Only this time,
Live inside, than beside.
We become one Eagle.

Masterpiece or not,
I always fly,
At highest peak of the blue sky.
I am the eagle of light.

© Serena Devi, March 2010, Thornhill Canada

One response to “The white eagle”

  1. This is beautiful…

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