You’re more than the sum of your parts. Your form, as it travels through the air, is poetry in motion, a poem written in the wind, invoking a wide range of emotions, from getting your blood pumping, to getting your heart bleeding; from jumping for joy, to jumping in fear. But unlike others, your beauty carries something soulful: a memory.
My blood isn’t boiling over the heat you radiate alone; I associate it with facing my nemeses. My heart isn’t soaring because of the wings you give me; it soars because I remember the excitement of a victory. My tears aren’t welling because of your rainclouds spilling; the pools form over the fall of a friend.
Had it not been for these memories, you would have been nary a whisper, facing a boundless flood of noise, but even as I’m drowning in its vastness, you, I will forever proudly hoist.