I look upon the pale blue
of a nameless winter sky
as the day grows wrinkles
longer and longer still.
Not a wisp of cloud
above an eagle proud
soaring effortlessly on thermals
while the ground cools
in shaded pools
I remember a word so true,
by one never to die
for in my mind his eye twinkles
strengthening my will
as a beach of pure white pebbles:
“Beneath the wings of eagle’ soar
lie the world to the core
a gem of impossibilities
waiting on man’s abilities
to reach the heights of kings
with their scepters and golden rings
that rule with justice and love
and bow only to God above.”
©G. Hermens, 15-05-2012.