Cathedral skies were trying their Hemingway hymns
The sun was singing through a ceiling full of stained-glass trim
It echoed from a chamber, revealing, on a whim,
The faintest of whispers on the breeze:
Heather, wild and free.
It was then a sight covered my eyes like fingers over brail
I felt a trace of faith I had only read about in tales.
When the name took shape, she wore a dress of sheets that caught like sails
On the roaring waves of Sanctity:
Clothing Heather, wild and free.
As collections of water gathered in the sky,
That furnace was burning through the turning wheels of time.
I thought I had caught her, turns out it was a lie:
A destiny I was desperate to believe
With Heather, wild and free.
Then hurricane winds came blowing in strong
Tearing at the tin roof until the early dawn.
When the final hush had fallen, I saw that she was gone,
Nothing left but wreckage in the street:
No Heather, wild and free.
Now, as campfires trail their smoke signals in tune,
They are breadcrumb remainders of what we held onto.
I follow them down to my river banks that grew
Grass greener than the open sea
For Heather, wild and free.
Cathedral skies are crying their Hemingway hymns.
The sun is sinking beneath a curtain draped in shining diamond gems.
I am left blanketed and begging absolution for my sins
Though unknown to me as they may be,
Just the green grass withered by the weeds,
By the faintest of whispers on the breeze,
By a name I would no longer speak:
Heather, wild and free. | 
