Life like a swift
dizzy downhill tumble
fumbling to grasp something more solid
than grass and pebbles all
head over heels

Catch air
and breathe
in snapshot
silence. At peace
in chaos. A man,
an island,
an ocean.

No falls hurt until the landing so
I work on learning to soar-
more or less the pipe dream
of a thing moored
to mores
that plant reeds on shores
not forms
in flight;
despite that, I set task toward attainment
of that lightness
in hollow boned cores
of those who were born
to adorn the clouds.

Mean fate and inertial weight
set course for disaster and demise, so
it'll be no surprise
since Im seeing it grow
embroidered into every shadow,
interlaced with every light.
I think I might die
when im not pining to the sky so
for this moment
I delight
in futile
freefall
hopes of flight.

-revscrj