Wings Upon Glass

There is this deep longing,
An unfettered life,
A lightness of being,
A waking strange dreaming,
Entranced by a muse,
Realm of the fairie,
A memory without seeing.

Wings upon glass.

And life's living t'ward dying,
Pain gasping for air,
Or blithe in rote step,
While we - still do sigh pining,
To walk among clouds,
Or in orbital rounds,
Yet a sightless heart crying.

Wings upon glass

And 'ere the paling of night,
Wings flail hopeless,
Clown dances misteps,
And wed to a hellish fright,
Though windows ajar,
The soul is enclosed,
A small world void of sight.

Wings upon glass.

Hands cusp beating blindness,
And bleed the maddened pecking —
Wings drink an opened horizon,
Through night,
Into a day,
Without glass.