These roaring metal wings are taking me
Away, reluctantly, from all I love,
Unlike young Icarus, who strove to fly
Amongst the birds but fell from high above.
Not pride, desire, intention, nor a need
To stretch my limbs and wander with the breeze
Has placed me here, watching the world below
Grow dim, a forest now instead of trees.
And though that distant place has fallen dark,
I sit awake, alone, enclosed, compressed,
And carried forward like a falling star
Consumed by dread of touching down, depressed
To leave the heavens, if but for a while,
Yet powerless to turn these wings around
And fly like mad to all that matters now:
The one to whom, though I may fly, I’m bound.
Image credit: Aleposta, from Wikimedia Commons, under a Creative Commons License.
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