Ten Feet Tall

Ten Feet Tall was written in May 2019 and has previously been published in All of Me Vol. I, courtesy of Shadow Spark Publishing. Featured art is by Brooke Shaden.

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Pink Floyd “Shine On You Crazy Diamond”

She was bleeding when I found her
On the side of the road
Battered, bruised and used beyond belief
Standing there with gritted teeth
A portrait of permitted grief
Each tear reminding that which lie beneath
Each fear a gift of heightened sense bequeathed
Was clear to me, this mighty brave
Possessed the courage of conviction
Had the kind of fight required to make each cold hard fact pulp fiction
Had endured no end of toil
Still, her bare feet graced the soil
Leading losses back to gain
Finite spoils so far exceeded
She was bleeding with such grace
It stole my very breath away
Whatever evils she had faced
Were swiftly making getaway
Better days now more inclined
For having walked barefoot through fires
For every scar she opened wide
Healing balsam seeped inside
Marching with a spring and keen of stride
Nowise denied her
Dignified through every last kaleidoscopic slide
Had I chose to disbelieve my eyes
Then I’d have flashed this stranger kindly smile and passed on by
Howbeit, souls so harmonised
Sparkle when they catch the light
Each debacle justified in teaching how to beat the blight
If only they be seen, believed
Then dead nights grant the sweetest dreams
One be shadow, one be light
Two walk the fine line barefoot in-between
Find a garden most serene
And fill it up to overflowing
Make it blush with blossom knowing
Set the most delightful scene
Dream a little dream
And dream it bigger every nightfall
Some place you’re forever seen
Through wide eyes free of doctrine
Free of will and overspilling
Oceans blue of calm
Bleeding true and charmed of essence infinite in spirit
Thus, I made myself Familiar
One of handsome coat of arms
Reflective of the majesty to which mine very own enhances
Chances are a choir composed of busted lips and bloodied noses
Bleeding when we found each other
Just to show we can
Just to see the show of hands that catch us when we fall
Thread the long through short of it and stand up ten feet tall
And so, this fable draws to close
Where it shall lead to
No-one knows
Howbeit, every dead of night I rest my weathered eyes
I’ll be headed to a garden most divine

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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