Flight

Flight

In the swift and stinging wind
he startles, stirs, turns down to the dark that surrounds,
drowns him and deliberate dares.
The artful plunge, plummeting,
so playfully done,
down in the strange and shapeless air,
safe to be
Nothing.
Will he trust? And why?
And he dives while the wind with foreboding blows
as he slows in the pitiless drift and climbs, alive.
I will not die, I will not die.
Nothing here is simple, everything false.
Embrace the chaos, come, and conquer with these wings,
For only art will tell, his art;
to face the wild and win, the wilderness deny,
Suffer, and simply in the end, to fly.

or, as a sonnet ........

In the swift and stinging wind, he startles,
stirs, turns down to the dark that surrounds, drowns
him and deliberate dares. The artful
plunge, plummeting; so playfully done, down
in the strange and shapeless air, safe to be
nothing. Will he trust? And why? And he dives
while the wind with foreboding blows as he
slows in the pitiless drift and climbs, alive.
I will not die, I will not die. Nothing
here is simple, everything false. Embrace
the chaos, come, and conquer with these wings,
for only art will tell, his art; to face
the wild and win, the wilderness deny,
suffer, and simply in the end, to fly.