Evolution

And to whom shall Man be ape to:

a foreigner to our soil,

or to ape itself?

(pondering over Nietzsche's Ubermensch)

Shackles

Slaves don't have wings

and its such a shame
to be one by choice.

Remoteness - the heart still yearns for a glimpse

Thousands of miles away,
thousands of moments away,
thousands of memories away,
O' dear one.

Phoenix

To burn to cinders
in your simmering passion,
& to rise again
in the abode of your love.

Chagrin (Click image to enlarge)