Owl on my rung
Twitching sharp in the wind
Distracted by red embers
Blowing through dust below
Twisting in crowds
I am mute
Two bright eyes glinting
Knives sharpened to strike
I breeze through the door
Falling silently to one
Out into the night
Ruffled and ready on wing
One thousand senses alive
Every moment in a flash
Captured, torn, discarded
My path flayed in fire
No turning back now
No turning at all
I am coming
You won't hear
