A Soul Flight

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Rowdy Living Press
The place where my mind wandered to first this morning.

Submitted: February 25, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 25, 2017






If only one could transpose his soul,

Then he would find his perfect escape

From the lack of liberty,

The never ending misery and

Profitless drudgery surrounding him.


He could then sail across wind swept valleys,

Move above fields

and field hedgerows,

And vast forests

Filled with timeless oaks,

Massive Live Oaks nine feet in diameter,

Drenched in hanging ancient gray moss,

Harboring  sanctified spirits

of those who have passed on before.

A distant flicker of some lost sprite in yon distance

Between the trunks,

The faint scent hanging in the wind,

of a copper still cooking

In the veiled beyond.


Across the forests on fielded edge

Loom stately mansions,

Standing proudly in their splendid colonnaded elegance,

Crafting their most prised products,

Always producing bountiful yields,

As those servants tend their vast fields,

Servants born from among those bred to serve,

Never insolent,

Never demanding,

Only contented

For the opportunity to give all in perfect gratitude.


The soul moved on and the cities

Stand as great bastions of classical splendor,

Examples of individual enterprising elegance,

No crass regulators,

No purloining regulations,

Where profit serves as incentive

For individual excellence.


If only we could transpose our soul,

We could then behold all of the glory

That we once were,

Our liberty now lost to achieve financial excellence,

We could examine it all firsthand.


Unless our dream be permanent,

Eventually we are forced to awake,

To endure the misfortunes of our imposed


Only to hand over half our profit,

As they parade their lies informing us that in spite of it all..,

We are still yet free...







© Copyright 2018 H.L. Dowless. All rights reserved.

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