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FlagshipI've fallen into the clouds of the thin weary night
where the tremors of dreamings are cloaked by the light;
and wandered astray by the warmth of my pride;
a placated knowledge that I've fought the good fight.
I have been in the thicket with birds in my hair
and stumbled through fields of my sin in their snares.
And laid down by the oceans deluded and calm
sifting glass like a water through thick, calloused palms.
In the throes of my dreaming, it finds me the same.
Perched on my shoulder, it whispers my name.
There, there, it assures and it presses its beak
with a whisper of a song that's laid deft on my cheek.
It ruffles its wings and the song is still there
tumbling like thick pearls of mist in the air.
I reach for the image of bracing my fall
though in the softness of dreaming I cannot recall:
upon the edge of this sea, to which end did I lean?
And which bird was my burden to suffer and preen?
There's a figment of quietness built into truth
which stems from the wonder we bury
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More