Feathered Leaves

Feathered Leaves

Feathers feathers feathers

Three words of the birds of the weathers

Whether through storms or through flaming heathers. 

It's always just weathered feathers

Feathers feathers feathers. 

One. 

Of ice and chills from hills of stacks frozen through ozone woven through dozens of novas chosen. 

Screech of wyverns living in conditions conditioned for dying

Scales turn into feathers gradually, actually quite fragily crying. 

Chills of dying

Fight or flight or freeze

Freeze and fight and flight all at once. 

Sights of heights underneath

Flown over and blown over with ease from chilly breeze from feathered wings of these. 

A frosted sun. 

Of feathers. 

Two 

The eyes of solitary adaptability. 

Adapt for military

But will sit in trees

And watch the humans gather dissentry

And watch the beings rather innocently

Watch them fight like still an infant being. 

Yet chirp lovingly at the actual infants

And sit upon the mighty elephants

And cuddle little squirrels and puppies

And stare with curious pupils at guppies. 

But all it wants is some huggies.

Just a solitary warm cuddly

feathered winged thing and whether lucky

Still just a lonely little link

in the expanse of a community

Of feathers feathers. 

Three

Pulses of pulses growing from pulses in earths crispy crust. 

Indulge in the ulcer that is the feathers within. 

Still stuck for an answer, well answer this i dare you. 

Why can't a winged being of lightning and earth fly? 

Still waiting for an answer to be unearthed but while I wait

I might actually start rhyming,

I know it feels electrifying

Actually no

Electri-frying your neurons

I'm a fricking neural network baby

Roots built from feathers hidden from weathers. 

But Im more than that maybe

I travel signals at distances

For beings of nothing or everything

From fungi to thug guy

To vine to divine beings and finally

From divine back to I and me. 

Oh the irony. 

I am a library, of information

So stop at my station

And drop a book for me

I need the literacy

Literally

To actually see. 

For I'm buried underneath the dirt, 

Can't you see? 

A solid wall, a mud brown sea

I have no eyes

It buried me

Took my body. 

Took my soul. 

I'm just a being of storage. 

Of feathers feathers feathers. 

From frozen flames on peaks of altitude. 

And chilly feelings of flawed thawed attitude. 

To lonely little link of a broken up community

Where it's fatal just to think about anything all in unity. 

To a world of its own, built up off of it's own bones

Not the bricks of the walls, but just the frames of the homes

Nothing left to be seen. 

Hidden beneath is the carcass of a car crash of a being of feathers. 

Just a feather in the earth. 

Just a feather with earth. 

Just a feather above the earth. 

Within, withstand, without. 

With wings we stand on clouds. 

With this we use to shout. 

For all to be peace. 

Even if that means that. 

All will be pieces. 

It's still written in the feathered leaves.