Flying As A Bird

Today's theme (something to soothe my anger after the post I last made to this blog):
Birds and flight.

Barely Above The Floor
--------------------------

Our flight succumbs to the wind. But then we
Betray the distance underneath what we have
Traversed. Then we become the syzygy again
Of wasp, of butterfly, of a bird dreamt of still.
But, therefore, we have assumed the sky
To be ours. We have presumed the cosmos
Was equal to its own glass. We have ascended yet
Unto those scalene circles, each dire
Despite our vertigo. And upwards we fly,
Until we are barely above the floor, until
We can grasp the window seen, until
We too evolve into our shame, evolve into
The tiresome swirl of gusts and thermals
Within this exodus of self from consideration.

...................

A Cowardly Bird
----------------

I assumed that I too was the bird, that I was
Avian in my epitome, in my totality coinciding
With the completion of all. Yet I never
Fly, but in my dreams. I cannot rise to become
More than human, more than trite. For, I fear
The expanse above me. So, I remain secluded here
Underneath the clouds. I remain perched
Upon the artificial world, although
I hope to someday rise.
But now I am surely a grounded creature. I
Am surely wilting into the air, into the very wind
For which I long. And my death impends. But I
Am not concerned by that. I only wish to deny
My self-betrayal. Therefore, I am a cowardly bird,
Am a flightless spirit redeemed only by my wisdom,
Redeemed only by my nonconformity.


=============

The Bird Within The Maze
-------------------------

The bird within, within the maze -- yes, it is free
To fly above the walls and gaze down upon
This puzzle. And questions are asked, but never remain.
Oh, why does the bird just sit atop these corridors,
Neither ascending nor attempting to triumph? It is,
I suppose, not obsessed with human contests. It
Does not contemplate the same riddles that concern
Our own minds. But yet, yet it does.
It only sees beyond the game; and it
Knows that humanity built this maze. So, why
Should the bird imagine what we also imagine?

Oh, it finally lifts upwards and stares back
At the turbulent earth. And it observes us each
Straining to solve life's labyrinths. And it
Has a question of its own to ponder. Why,
Why did humankind build such pathways? For, I,
The bird, am truly free. And I am finally
Afloat above our world fragmented into
Its trite occupation with our
Superstitions, with our arbitrary shame depicted
Amongst the maze and its geometries of
Flightlessness grounded by all such conjectures.


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That's it for today. I have already shared with you the poems "Peahen" and "Ornithopter", which are related to today's theme.

Thanks,
Leroy Quet