This poem is quite personal. Hopefully it can inspire those that find themselves in a similar situation as I did a while back.
“Those heavy shackles…“Stargazing in the room of darkness,
Eyes locked on the barrier of stone.
Looking for the cracks in its foundation,
To drink cold breeze,
Created by the night.
Those heavy shackles…
Rusty chain, stretched around my wings.
A lifelong sentence,
With decree pronounced by the evil of the fear.
Once chains have fallen off the wings,
There is no flying back.
Old bridges shutter to the pieces,
Verses fade away in the sand.
A little light,
On tips of feathers of my wings,
Then a flick,
Whole body eaten by the flame,
Radiating heat as if bonfire in the Arctic.
Particles of ash,
On top of remnants of the old shed skin.
To be reborn,
You have to swim in the lake of fire,
Drop the feathers of the past.
Only through the ring of pain,
You can be born again.
Shed your old skin.Tweet
Please let me know what you think of the poem on Twitter @FischerVladimir