From the time man is born
until he dies
steel cables shoot from
his chest to
the clouds,
barreling upwards,
latching into blue,
positioning his gaze
towards heaven,
coaxing his feet
from the earth.
A desire
he alone could not fulfill.
But then came
the aeroplane, and I,
I was born
with clouds whistling past my cheek,
filling my eye's corners with tears,
filling my chest with beating wings.
I was born grazing shoulders with
man's deep set feathered dream,
born bound to no firmament.
What have I ever done
to deserve this fulfillment?
No comments:
Post a Comment