When we were young,

With our wings aching

As they pressed against

The skin of our backs,

As our spines pulled and

Our bones torqued and bent

Under the weight of all we missed,

I remember we dreamt of flying.

Looking over the precipice,

Knowledge of the fall and

What comes at rock bottom

Still rushes through our minds.

But we were born on cloud nine,

Our senses were fed by the breath

Of the wind in our hair, our skin,

Our eyes blurred from tears pulled from us,

Wrapped and wracked with euphoria.

Our wings stretched

And our skin caved out.

Shining bright, bursting forth,

Wings craving flight and freedom.

Muscles unused and pulled taught

Reaching for the first time up and up,

And our bodies as full and light as balloons,

We spun down and down again.

And then, mechanical,

Blooming and dripping

Out from our rippling backs

Our toes kissed the dew drops

Forming along our ankles and calves

And the glinting feathers cupped the air,

Hands made for catching the impossible

And reflecting the burning of the sun up

Into the great yawn we dove into.

Our wings are knives

Cutting patterns from the sky,

Leaving pinprick holes in our wake,

Exposing the dusty light of the universe

To all the ones still looking up from below.

We streak across the sun-soaked sky,

And drag all of the various shades of color

Behind us; God's own paint brushes.

Far down below,

Where gravity has a say

And the crust of the old earth

Calls out like a great beast to us,

Awakened from deep slumber, shaking.

The earth cannot understand why we left;

It asks, with a voice of avalanches and treefall,

Why the dark soil wasn't enough for us.

Those we left behind

Watch as we trail our limbs

Dragging up and up to the blue.

The universe sighs into our lungs,

Bellows in a furnace, an ancient forge

Sculpting weapons from our ambitions.

If you see us falling, engulfed in flames,

Wish upon a shooting star.

If we are made

To fly, only to fall

Down from grace above,

As bombs instead of bodies,

Let's first use our wings to cut

Through the air, to rip the sky apart

And reach past those who came before us

To the galaxies far from our grasp.

We busted through

The film of atmosphere

Because we saw ourselves

Spinning barefoot in the hearts

Of stars, and we felt the powder-dust

Of the moon's pitted surface caked against

Our scuffed toes and blistered heels, dancing.

We scrape another galaxy into existence.

Turn your minds

Upwards towards the

Heavens above, I tell you,

Please don't look back just yet.

There is still time to follow the paths

Back to who we once were, if you want.

But let's fly a little longer, dipped in starlight,

Let children make wishes on our wings.

But Mother Earth calls her children back,

And home thrums steady drum-beats

While roots wind through our veins.

Reminding us of grass-stained days

And silhouetted twilight drowning

Out the light of the galaxy above;

Wings only carry us so far,

And, my dear, it is time

For us to land.

I hope you recognize the fragile beauty

That comes with dreaming of tragedy.

Watch streetlights steal the light

And listen to the electric stutter

Of an old television recording

Of that 1969 summer day.

We dreamt of flying

So we did.