ode to Neil Gaimans Fragile Things

Words and wings Raven’s wings are fragile things Swooping through towers of ancient Kings On battle grounds alight and shriek Fragile things need not mean weak. Words can wound and words can heal And cross the borderline of what is real In lands of cross legged pixies wait Do Gods or words determine fate? Eruptions of the odd Are but the makings of the soul Are you with Lucifer or God? Is the wish to sin or win your goal? Lives, like months pass by each year October, December, September, November, Each year the same, yet stories new Of what is False and what is True. Ghosts are neither here nor there But anywhere and everywhere And travel through the worlds in mute And travel not the usual route Let the silence blossom on your tongue like language Let the red door knocker lie unused Let the Norse Gods steal your thunder Let the new Gods be accused. Raven’s wings are fragile things Swooping through towers of ancient Kings On battle grounds alight and shriek Fragile things need not mean weak.