Maybe somewhere
there’s a version of me
that has wings for arms.
Maybe I own a chariot
I can fly in the night
to take us to the clouds
while the world sleeps
and asks nothing of us.
In that world
I can whistle to command
the storms
back to the heavens
and fall as little drops
of dew
to cool us from hot weather.
There’d be no floods
for they will recede
before they rise
when they hear my voice
and cower
forever to the seas.
And all that color
your thoughts black
will dissolve at my touch
back into the void
where their screams die
and come back as pretty tunes
to make you smile.
But I have none such power
and my voice often sounds
a whisper too meek
to dare to speak.
I have only dreams
to wander
where I’m half as strong
as I aspire.
I stand a mere hopeful
in a world where I
can offer nothing grand.
But my hopes spring
from truth
that it’s you I keep
in the innermost depths
of my heart.
With I can go
the distance,
a million lifetimes over
and over
to see my journey with you
through.
A Chariot in the Night
August 16, 2022
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