Flight

Don't give me any snarky "what about rockets and airplanes and helicopters and hang-gliders" comments. I don't need that bullshit.


So loudly sounding, the song of the wren,
Feathers flutter through wind so restless,
And hollow bones float easily weightless,
Lovely flight inspiring dreams of men.

Ever held to gravity, man has been,
To touch the stars, a wish I now confess,
Forever doomed to dream, and write, and guess,
And never soar the skies, feet planted in.

How is it that the heart is free to fly?
And minds can travel anywhere in time?
But the body can only pantomime,
To lift my heavy feet from where they lie.
Since the dawn of man he has wished to soar,
But rooted down he shall stay evermore.