Friday, January 6, 2012

pardon the pun.

The first flight fell
all light and air with no strength
no core with which to stab at
the greedy grip of gravity.
I will not make that mistake again
to fly is not to float, to drift, to dream.
It is to take in one hand the heart
and with all its beating power thrust
into the imperturbable sky.
No waxen wings then will do.
I shall weld myself a weapon
a pointed shaft by which to drill
into unyielding blue and having driving deep
emerge triumphant and engorged
with all the wealth of air unfurled beneath me.
With iron bar and steeled accord then,
I will strike into the sky.
It is, after all, man's Wright to fly.