For the fact that I was so small, the
mortal feet threatening to crush me,
their hands felling trees, their mouths
seeking meat, I took to these few seeds.
Little words, sounds little heard.
But the greater gods live in the tiniest
beings: on the bridge of a twig, under
the canopy of a leaf, in the kingdom of
a tree. For there still abounds an Eden.
Long forgotten. Long unseen. And if I were
a cricket, the sound I would make rubbing
my limbs together would deafen The
World, would live longer than me.
When not slaying Dragons, Falconhead uses Dragon’s blood to write poetry, fiction, essays and drama. You can follow him on Twitter here: https://twitter.com/Falconheadpens
Lest Man Take From Me What He Has Given is a post from: Straylight Literary Magazine