a flight poem


  across a span of years and miles, seamlessly,
  bent on knowing
  what these feelings are that I must feel —


  believing in the moments and the words to come,
  barely showing
  cognizance of what the signs reveal —

    there, among the crowds and clouds,
    a kind of picture growing,
    of why it is the wind will burn
    and why it must keep blowing —

paradox —

  emotions essence, shadows of a summer day
  that tarries
  after all the light has has gone —


  by a song whose singer breaks the span of time
  and carries
  with it dreams of all those yesterdays

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