Flight

Exiled

Through

Ineptitude

I sit on a

Deck in

Toronto

Almost noon

The sun fails

At hiding

Behind

The gauze

Of a cool

Northern

Spring

Chilled

Yet thriving

Life erupts

Green, songs

Colors impatient

Reveal themselves

As if to say,

“Finally!" in

Exasperated

Entitlement

I am the

Only muted

Thing here

I wear

The colors

And I

Sing

The songs

I almost

Belong

But

When

The sunlight

Has it's

Attention

Drawn to

Authenticity

I become

The low clouds

Providing

Precipitation

Transient

Ephemeral

Amorphous

Unintelligible

Apophenia

I never

Intended

to be here;

Beauty

As

Punishment

The consolation

of

Distance,

Separation

Failure

Eagerness

Icarus flew

To Poland

And

The wax

Melted

He falls

Through

The clouds

of

Europe

He falls

Still

Through

The clouds

of the

Atlantic

Into

North

America

Returning

To the ground

From

Where

He tried

To escape

Like a moth

He only

Sought

The warmth

of light

Brilliance

Is blinding

And

Love is binding

We all

Fall

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