Routes to the start follow one straight line;
One cloudy train, one sky track.
Takes me back freefalling.
On the way, retracing
My common comforts
Of temples once explored,
And the milestones left in place.

When I swiftly, arrive
The ground gives way for me to walk
Down the path to my destinations.
Through this place folded in time,
Unchanged to these eyes.

I return with a pulse,
An instinct calling;
To regrow my roots;
To forget me but remember who I am;
To see how deep, the rabbit hole doesn’t go;
To look at the nest, but see it’s empty.

A remembrance;
Upstairs, over the floorboards
That creak their same-old tune,
I’m seeing through the window
While standing in my room,
A mirror to the past.

A revelation;
The anciency of this shrine.
Where my ghost is kept alive.
Seen through the memoirs
Buried in the wardrobe;
As the relics in my coffin.
As I leave; an elegy to this place.

The routes from where my time begins
Are branched out, reaching
In different directions
Pointing towards the same sun.
Thriving in the summer soil,
Adapting to winter’s breath.

I will build my monuments high,
Throughout the growth of my forest.
Towering in the skies,
To lay a foundation for others.


Temples

Whitewing

Guitarist, percussionist, vocalist, composer and performer. BA music composition at Coventry University, with a college BTEC in music tech.  Ableton Live for production, Sibelius 7 for notation. 

Soundtrack, rock and solo guitar music is a broad summary of what you'll find here, and while that's the intention who knows what will pop up?

Daniel Leather