The Paragliders Wish

High in the sky a paraglider does soar, fast and swift asking no more.

It beckons wing lift, as the thermals drift.
With majestic breath, and avoiding Death.

Flying is so free, he doesn't agree.
For he who is Death, beckons all those fools drawing last breath.

I wish those failing, choosing to ballot.
Land safely without break, avoiding sadness and forsaken pilot.