Sycorax's Brood

On wings of happiness
Pale blue people float past
Airy and insubstantial
As the morning breeze.

Their voices like birdsong
Each movement of grace
They carry with them
Peace, as in the end of a long day.

I, who am darker
Than those atherial beings
Trapped in earth
May only watch...

Would that I were like them
No troubles or fears
But an unhappy clodstomper I
Remain.

They may fly to the heights
Dive through oceans
Carry understanding
Wisdom and beauty with them.

But I,earth-borne
And earth-bound must
Fight bloody wars for lack
Of knowledge

My colour is red.
Deep and loathsome red
Tainted,it penetrates the deeps
And twists my wisdom into lies.

Perhaps one day
I too shall fly, shall float
And will not fall
When this unhappy clodstomper I
Is finally laid to rest.