If I was an old soul

If I was an old soul

Free of mortal concerns

With nothing to do

But wander

Through high walled

Book-lined halls

Looking for a moment

To remember

What it meant to be human

It would be no less

Purgatory

Than this

Waiting in the shadow

Of the garden

For safe passage

To the otherside

What fate awaits

The constant traveller

Carried on the backs

Of eagles

Over the highest peaks

Lying between

One horizon and the next

The flesh

Of the fallen

Hanging from cruel beaks

There are few

Who survive the journey

Without loss

Unsung passengers

Of a terminal flight

Herded in blindness

Souls unseen

Until the harvest

Floating in suspension

Of their disbelief

Once the flesh

Has been stripped

From the bone

They are defenceless

Perhaps the destination

Will be worthy

Of the journey

As the scales fall

From the eyes of the dead

To a world reborn

And seen as new