"Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wings on,testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade...Who cares that he fell back to the sea?"(Anne Sexton)
The evening wore
a blue jacket. Your voice
dressed itself
for a long journey.
There are a thousand
places to die. You chose
the sea because
it remembered you.
A dead bird, fallen
from eternal flight;
a small capsized body-
the secret of its search.
Wings moved
air, carried grief
through bones
of yearning...
traced lines
of the missing
piece as if
you had known it.
You kept yourself
indifferent; the mystery
of interrupted light ...
blind falcon
at the endof your fragile bindings-set sail. 
to be less HEAVY and obvious in philosophical content but it don't come easy! Also, I hope I am not
clogging up the creative space as
I am a bit too prolific. Sorry!
I really do hope to see more of others works here!
The blog is Outlasting Moths btw.
Thanks again.
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