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Flight of Fancy
A mesh of soft, white barbs
Pulsing with life,
Soaring up into the dense fields of
- tipped with golden-blue light
Taking the thin frame higher, higer...
Then throttling back up inot
the deep blue,
Climbing the wind's spiral stairs
Scraping the floors of Heaven...
The wind rushing by
Never to touch the hot, parched Earth again
Earth that sticks to and burns the soul.
Splashing in the deep blues, greens and purples
Of the sky,
Dancing in and out of the stained glass
Shaking off the crystal dew
Cloaking your soft pinions
in the dusky redness of the twilight
as you fly ever on...
Stars set upon your brow..
Twinkling in your eyes
No, never to return
Never to return to life below.
Never to walk with tired feet and
Never to see your dreams
Disolve into nothingness
For up here, with the icy stars smiling beside you
Dreams are reality and reality is but a dream
Let us fly with the doves
You and I
or let us die trying
(Nov 13th, 1989)