In tired arms, a child sleeps
In crook of a widow's weeping,
Grief dressed like shadows
Hush the black room silent
Love's lasting touch remains.
But outside clouding room,
Where joy and heartache tales entwine,
The world moves a mile through space,
And because they do not know,
Men still laugh, and children play.
Do old things in new ways
Clones sell souls collecting pennies
Watch the world whirl by
Their windows,
Because they're numb to our fate.
And so nobody notices the boy
Fall from crystal blue sky,
Or see the ship which witnessed
History, but still set sail for the horizon
To fulfill its destiny anyway.
Nobody saw the boy’s feathers
Gifted by flawed prophets
Melt from his thin white arms
Just before he fell.
Were you talking to the ploughman
About reaping what you'd sowed?
Were you blinkered to history
Unfolding before you,
As you kept you head down
And miss poor Icarus, the fool,
Reaching for the sun?
His death made mourners
Of rubberneckers,
For a second a nation recoiled
Then returned to cups of tea and biscuits
Forgetting the death,
Because it did not belong to them.
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