Flight Lane

So far from myself, so close to numbness
enclosed in the wispy milkiness of morning
verve limply outlining the trajectory
of this stupor, so sluggishly similar
to walking within gelatinous roots of feathers
yet to form beyond the bird to be
inside the egg, I’m a song that does not hatch
and a flight too lethargic to break through
the shell.

Yet, the trees await me, as they wave softly
in the design of air and probe into the density
of haze, ultimately sifting in their appeal
in shades of boughs and their counterpart
in dapples of sun.

It is then that I perceive you, perched upon lines
of eagerness and rustling leaves that scatter
in a shower of colours and modulations
the redolence of hope and the wakefulness of space.

So close to myself, so far from dettachment
you plunge in full wing into my core
and swiftly draw my evasion out and high
in the open, until it unfurls with all
the decipherability of a poem
about to soar.

In the amplitude of voice retrieved
and well above the scraps of that insentient
shell, a boundless flight lane becomes
our day.

© 2006 Alexandra* ~ OneLight*®