you have to work your wings.
You can't merely
lay your breast upon the air.
You can't just float along
in the current of the wind.
You have to really wing it.
You have to raise your wings high
and keep them pointed upward.
You have to let the hunger in your soul
move your wings
and keep them beating against the wind.
You have to want something more
than mere air around you.
Your every push and flow
must strive to reach new heights
even through blue rain and red thunder.
You must peer far beyond the veil
of the deep blue body of the night
and climb for the stars
even when you can't see them,
believing that their shine
can be your own.
And when your wings catch their light,
your heart must carry it
and let it burn through your soul
until it ignites the flecks of stardust
in the depths of your eyes.
And, always,
you must must love what is lovely
about your wings.
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