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Vultures are Circling
by Chris Ingham

Even at my point of triumph,
I could sense the vultures circling
In the thick dark, rising beyond
My circle of wavering light.

Today I saw them, high, distant,
In the translucent sky waiting,
Patiently, for the baying jackals
To consume my pride's torn carcass.

My bright coat of many colours
Torn asunder by the jackals,
Smelling blood, was cast in the pit
Of broken dreams, dug eagerly
By jealous hands and tiny minds.

But, like Joseph, I will arise
In another land of dreaming
Where the spires of creativity
Will point forever to the stars.
Where vultures will continually
Circle in a mazy motion
Ever denied satisfaction.


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