Poetry

Step 20 (80.)

Black wings embrace the night sky
and bright blue stars shine from their folds.
The crow wheels through the air,
despite the wind,
and I do my best to follow.
Glossy beautiful feathers light my way
as I zoom along behind the crow,
and I wonder,
how am I doing this?
A voice enters the cacophony of my mind.
Flight is always in you, and
it is not always the coward’s way.
I nod at the crow, for it is them I hear,
and I zig-zag from cloud to cloud
feeling giddy as a kid watching fireworks.
To fly, right into problems, only to outpace them
and move on, that –
that is the way of confidence.
I assert my newfound wings upon the sky,
I leave the earth and its trammels behind,
and I accept the power to act.
A single blue feather falls from the crow’s latest flap
and lands upon my moving shoulder.
Good, I hear as my feathered friend aims
for the moon, or maybe it’s the sun, but they,
they are gone, and I am left
in the middle of a great eclipse.
I know where to go,
so I alight by the pond, step inside, and
float.
My face faces the sky, and I feel a presence
floating next to me.
Their face faces the other way, staring at the other side
of the pond.
The other dream.
They are the lost somnambulist, and
they are here to walk with me, to follow me
through my dreams, this time.

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