Exile

The fish is out of the water, refusing to let go and die,

barred from brilliance, cast out the one once crowned,

Is this the end of another chapter my oh my,

no one cried and no one frowned.

Time and time again there are knocks on the door of paradise,

Let him in, his wings can't fly, he has crawled and crawled,

Even kings one day will rot and become food for mice,

Let him in! enough with his fate he has brawled!

'The doors are open" mocks the ticking evil,

as his own wings don't let him reach the stairs,

he had his renaissance now pushed back to times medieval ,

No one hears how the battle horn blares...

I am not the devil. I have but fallen from fate,

I had heaven not to grasp but to merely reside,

All good now pushed away by silent demons of hate,

Its not me! I swear! I am still somewhere in the clouds, with no exile to abide...

The daydreamer thinks of himself in a story,

For what is flesh, blood, wind and soil,

here I can have my own glory.

without the meaningless system and the futile toil.

Time hungers for its tests, insatiable as ever,

Its just another hurdle to pass,

yet it seems like forever,

Hurdles make up life alas...

All he can do is wait, for his wings to open and fly,

open before the holy war begins,

what has he done to suffer such punishment,

defeated by circumstances, he knows not why...

Exiled from thought, exiled from purpose,

Exiled from sincerity, exiled from the familiar,

Exiled from duty, exiled from time surplus,

Exiled from all he wished to grasp for the time being....

But seldom exiled from fear...