There are some things that even stars can't melt
Immune to the heat of hell, although still feel the pain
these things that no god can destroy; our souls
we are sparrows
controlled by dictators of the worst degree
tell me, where did Hitler learn to love
as we have been loved by your god?
The patterns are the same
only flesh burns, and souls don't
We are God, Amesha Spentas spread,
disunified; shattered into pieces, shards
My shard is becoming dull now to much confusion
Why does the sparrow fly?
is it a flight to seek sustenance,
to find a short period of warmth by the fire that is life?
Maybe we'll never know,
Or perhaps there are few of us who intuitively do know but could never articulate the meaning to another
We are one sparrow
Our soul flying through eternity
to stop in warmth momentarily
And continue our journey the next cosmic day.
About the Creator
Jesse Willson
Poetry is beautiful to those who aren't poets. To the poets, it's more of an annoying understanding that your hubris wants to seem sentient and artistic. IDGAF if you read my stuff. I do hope that everyone is well. Peace and love.
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