There are moments-
In where you will feel the urge-
Through transition, a superimposed image of yourself forms- distorted truths and exaggerated roles-
Burn the foliage you once called home. Burning it all, flames so tall, the surrounding world’s sent away,
Sparks awaken the inferno, lost are the embers floating through the trees, the ones in front, behind,
Sheltering the face from the haze, a moment is drained of a past- no longer,
As incendiary thoughts conspire, lingering in the aftermath of the blaze,
Manipulated is the mind, rearranged through the beauty of a slate washed clean,
Stutter stepping amongst the pajama-clad, hooves cloaked by slipper and boot
A desire for improvement, a constant strain is placed upon the nature,
Bred from gossip columns, matured through evening news,
Aloft she sits upon a perch, above, out of sight, in reach of God,
Impressive are the claims, the realistic footprints its’ actions recreate-
The awe, glorious palpitations only metrics away,
A shoulders’ length from the tipping place, hand-crafted affirmations cast anew,
A mystery unsolved, a revelation perched within the clouds,
Mirrors cracking from the personal glare,
A creator inspired through a son’s necessity to fly, for him alone, Daedalus you became,
Identity and structure seemed the same,
Yet it was a crude imitator, igniting the outcome to change,
In replacing the sun with the moon, a child, with wings intact,
Rose above inferno, avoided wildfire and soared beyond the fanned flame.
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