The Eternal Egg

She’s waiting there,

with fire in her hair

Blue angel wings that long

to take flight

off that tiny patch,

That tiny whirling piece of earth.

She longs for a reason to leave the

care of the eternal egg to some other

Maiden

She’s in a ball, wrapped up tight

gazing into the future and trying

to ignore her past

Her backs turned

too often has she been spurned

she longs for possibility, judgment, righteousness, despair, anything but the same!

The possibility of choice and now… but she doesn’t

have those.

So she stays in this in-between pose, like a forgotten rose

with fire in her hair, oh how she is fair

and longs for despair

Dream, gone, gaze, laze adventure… but no.

She’s caught in the immortal job she did not choose, but now she’s got nothing to lose

Except the world.

Accept the world.

The birth of the Earth

The responsibility of endless sitting shadows

A dress… A robe… please

The tiger of honey nearly knocking

the guard

over the edge

She’s over the edge, oh how she longs, longs

longing

But it hatches, and cracks like stone under ice

pressure like magic clouds of cotton

marred by the unclean, unsatisfactory

not quite fight of the night.

How dare they?

Take away

that day , that she thought would pay

Waiting, immortally, irresponsibly

Shirking her duty, the job she didn’t choose

She’s got to light the fuse, to the lamp, to the light, flight.

How tight she’s curled up.

Why?

Why fly? Why even try?

To pry the lies of broken eggshell, I’m a shell, she’s a shell

where is the substance?

Why doesn’t she go? Leave?

when she’s whirling twirling, the world has stopped it’s orbit

and she’s the only thing moving,

grooving, proving to the world that she

CAN

DANCE, it’s her only chance to stand up

Oh, but now she’s… gone off

Away to seek her fortune

She’s on top and the only way

is done

But she stops and looks

around

She marvels at the sound of

silence

It’s only getting louder

Still she keeps getting prouder and prouder until all at once she halts.

The world returns to orbit, the stars continue to shine and the clouds to float, the rivers to stream and the beasts to breath

She falls down exhausted

But no… this is a daydream

The eggs gleam, oh here

is a

heavy

new responsibility. She had her chance to dance the flurry of blue clock work wings

Oh how the air would sing and

Ring with her freedom

That could have been.

It’s too late, the guard is in place

She can’t face, her insufficient mounds of cowardess

She’s no prowess

She’ll never see the pain

Of rain or try to train the

Wild mane of a

Sea Dragon

Or try to Explain

her Life

and how it’s filled her to the brim with regret

But don’t fret, or forget

But live like she will never live

Live her chance at stardom and prance

Take your freed doom by the pants and let’s chance

The crazical fanc-iful dance in life of the

Clockwork Angel

Live her life and unconform conformity

And break the unbreakable and beat the tyrant which is routine

Stop the habit

Stop

The Habit

Never be clockwork…

Clockwork can be beautiful, but always

Always

It is filled with regret, longing, hope for despair, and worst of all…

LONELINESS

By, Samantha Schaefer