Ride, Hero, into battle ride
Leave your life behind
It’s all you have to lose
If you lay it down
Nothing can be robbed from you
Rise, Hero, unburdened rise
Give up everything that is your own
So you can be everyone’s sacrifice
You will be remembered
Even when your memory dies
Go, Hero, nameless and alone
You are not your own
Forget everything you love
For the sake of what you love
And everything you’ve known
I’ve heard that life can be more
And that once you’ve tasted
Once you’ve seen
I don’t think I have that kind of life
A life that is like the smoldering carnelian sun
Setting over the Serengeti
I look up and instead of majestic skies
I see stoplights and electric wires
And fluorescent signs promoting “The Whopper”
I dream of that other life
The one that moves your primal soul
And brings tears to your awe-widened eyes
But I don’t know how to get there
How to live gloriously
So I just keep asking
Hands open and empty
Waiting to receive
The hardwood floors of my bedroom creak
each morning as I put my feet down
to rise out of bed and start a new day.
Sometimes I groan along with them,
wanting only to turn around,
crawl into my bed,
and stay there.
But day after day,
my feet hit the floor,
the grain rough and solid beneath them.
Because feet are meant to cover ground:
to walk, to leap, to run,
chasing after the setting sun.
But there are days when it feels like the sun won’t rise.
There are days when I’d rather not try.
On those mornings, as I have before,
I convince myself, for one day more,
to put my feet on the bedroom floor.
I’ll run along the ledge unafraid
I’ll dance on the edge of a blade,
Arms open wide and wheeling
I’ll laugh into the gale, unfeeling
For sorrow is lighter than air
When you find you no longer care
In your tower-cage,
How sweetly you sing
with no one to hear you.
How brightly you burn
with no one to see you.
You are isolated
because you are unique.
You are protected
because you are dangerous.
Do not be led astray
by books, or false shepherds,
Do not dream of worlds beyond
Do not turn those fervent dreams
by ripping tears in space
and pulling those worlds to where you are.
Stay here, Little Bird,
Subject displays increased heartrate
A slight tremor in the fingers
Subject evinces possible nausea
Or is it inertia?
Subject observed pacing
Repeatedly running hands through hair
Frequently glancing at mobile device
Subject appears to be constantly
On the verge of laughter or tears