Solid in his darkness
Surrounded by stars
He is attempting to soar
He has little grace
Maybe the determination of wings
And his head fixed on his anticipated launch
But perhaps he has already fallen so many years before

Maybe he is old now
Failing to fly so many times
Feathers melted by the starry furnaces
Falling, Falling
Still his heart,
His glowing soul
Has not yet abandoned
Hope for the skies.