The son of the sky

Carrying whims on wings

Too fragile to fly

Carefree as he glides down on a cloud

Whistling to the birds he meets

Half wanting to see the world underneath

Feeling the warmth he only sees

 

A son of the sea

Half part beast hidden in the deep

Of the stars and ocean seas

A half-made man not lost in darkness

But gleaming

Waiting for destiny

To show a half paved path

On the outskirts of Saint Augustine

Famishing foam lashing against the rocks

 

Son of the mother of the earth

Gliding on mud that toils beneath his feet

The greenery showcasing his mother’s

Everlasting glee to a son

Half composed of the trees

She had revived previously to life

So he can never die

 

Poor bastard of the sister to the moon

Whose sunlight deceives with fancy flashes

Covering up her spots

As she pretends to love the Sky

When she keeps the air cold

To keep the waters warm

 

He who weeps

With tears made of fire

Because he’s pushed and put away

To a place he will never be seen

Weeping his tears of anguish

As he tears the Earth apart

Showcasing his grief

Screaming

“When will the whole of me

Be freed?”