a poem by Lukas Bartsch

I wander in phosphorescence,
not quite capturing its essence,
Tumbling falling through the aether,
high above yet still beneath her.
Ethereal realms thundering, colliding,
the heavens pondering still deciding.
Deep within the earth ascending,
in metamorphosis transcending,
the shining knight falls on the sword –
growing wings, becomes a lord.
In the light beyond the shades
freedom turns my fears to blades.
Roses drowning in the fog,
wallowing my mind does block
the comprehension of the form,
the wings the scales, the horn.
Hence, I’m trapped in waking hell,
my body but a tolling bell.