David Fleming
It's All Academic   www.davidflemingsite.com   

November 19, 2019

I could go high with the falcon.

I could go lower than the soil,

Or somewhere in the middle

Where none is more black.

Others' stars rise,

While their shadows fall.

In the end, what only matters

Is that they align in right positions.


Sunshine on the process,

Eclipse on the promise.

Sometimes the only thing to do

Is to suggest regrets.


I have made my concessions,

I have said my peace.

It's not the ground I covered

That withers beneath my feet.

Out the door glides the spirit,

Barely enough time to pause,

Climbs the ladder, shatters the ceiling,

So that the light streams in.


Sunshine in for measure,

Darkness in my desert.

Sometimes the only thing to say

Is just whatever.


I watch some soar.

I watch some stagger,

Feeling the fractures

In my own wounded wing.

Do we all bear witness

To the bungled pronouncements,

Or are we all wrapped in shawls,

And handled like puppets?


Sunshine aligned for inspection,

Illumination designed for protection.

Sometimes the only escape

Is through self-deception.