The Bag That Gathers Lift. A floater among the grey around the edge of October Ascending on a passive mission to nowhere and yet ascending It hovers above colourless souls, inspecting without touching From a fear of contamination and darkened hands, it adheres to the course. A sneaking ray tries to highlight the way to no avail, the shade of dark rules the day. A tree below a building extends a branch as a kid watches from a yellowed balcony He is yanked by the pillars of envy that fall from history He cries to the bag that twists in anger but wind carries it as it may. From the flight of fancy that holds its destiny, it attempts to break away in spurts Small explosions of will that alter the surrounding echo for few seconds It dives onto the tree for deliverance as the kid escapes the hand that reckons They both gasp for the air that lifts the bag and the human is left to hurt. 9/9/96
Reason for writing:
A flying bag on a cloudy day.
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Freddie Zee, Gemini.