Achaean News
Feathers in the Breeze
Written by: Farstrider Ryssa Zviera-Rian
Date: Tuesday, January 14th, 2020
Addressed to: Everyone
Lost in the clouds
a prisoner of my own dreams
All that was
is not what it seemed
Dancing on the invisible
high up in the sky
Now down I plummet
crying and lamenting
of how I was such a fool
Yet here I am still.
Searching for a muse and reason
to keep this frail heart of mine beating
Within, grey and turning
like the dark ocean churning
Wind snatched feathers
are all you'll see
The song on the breeze
is all that's left of me
Caught by cruel winds
tearing through wing and spirit
Dark shadows pursue me
screaming words unwanted
but I'm forced to hear it
So down I fall
from the skies
caught up again in waves
Crying out
clinging to passion's last ember
Gentle seasons and bright skies
struggling to remember
So here I fight
searching for light.
Searching for a muse and reason
to keep this frail heart of mine beating
Within, grey and turning
like the dark ocean churning
Wind snatched feathers
are all you'll see
The song on the breeze
is all that's left of me
Penned by my hand on the 16th of Sarapin, in the year 820 AF.
Feathers in the Breeze
Written by: Farstrider Ryssa Zviera-Rian
Date: Tuesday, January 14th, 2020
Addressed to: Everyone
Lost in the clouds
a prisoner of my own dreams
All that was
is not what it seemed
Dancing on the invisible
high up in the sky
Now down I plummet
crying and lamenting
of how I was such a fool
Yet here I am still.
Searching for a muse and reason
to keep this frail heart of mine beating
Within, grey and turning
like the dark ocean churning
Wind snatched feathers
are all you'll see
The song on the breeze
is all that's left of me
Caught by cruel winds
tearing through wing and spirit
Dark shadows pursue me
screaming words unwanted
but I'm forced to hear it
So down I fall
from the skies
caught up again in waves
Crying out
clinging to passion's last ember
Gentle seasons and bright skies
struggling to remember
So here I fight
searching for light.
Searching for a muse and reason
to keep this frail heart of mine beating
Within, grey and turning
like the dark ocean churning
Wind snatched feathers
are all you'll see
The song on the breeze
is all that's left of me
Penned by my hand on the 16th of Sarapin, in the year 820 AF.