I flew with you when you left ground, abandoning my soul and
fragments of my sanity.
You make me want to soar, you do.
Arms spread like Easter Wings, flying best in vanity.
Your will to be a stoic God burns true.
On these clouds you perch, preaching your calamity,
Yet, I bid you fall
                                   collide
                                               recall
                                                               reside
with me,
on the ground once more.
To be merely a man, in spite of sought after sanctity.