there must be a ceiling broke-through
an atrium somewhere
or I will be trapped
contained
never to fly away
they will capture me no matter how rapid
my wings in ascent
I travel floor to floor
a frantic search for egress
to the underside of the roof
no farther
they rise in chase so I descend
once past them
they reverse
so I rise again
on and on
I spy a small tear in the fabric,
in a corner up and away where I bob to rest
in a panic, I deflate, collapse
press through
I am atop a tall building
in the gold twilight
the world stretches far beyond below
gargoyles, fascia, domes and cupolas
too distant, too many to discern any detail
it is after sunset
without a sense of morning
to fly this course is not the same, but not unlike
that to which I've grown accustomed
one strong downward flap at a time
I cannot, shall never return to the world inside
for the tear has been mended
I am uncertain if buoyance works here
don't fail me
I dip one wing to test the updraft
lean into the invisible
like prayer
I slip off the edge
behind closed eyes, I know
I am alight
aloft
I pick up speed
incredible velocity
I will
myself to crash
to no avail
it is out
of my hands
to those gathered on the roofs below, I am a rapid float
a figment
an irritant to the world-bound
with new confidence I bank
steeply
atop the hot wind
I shout to the searchers from the inside out now, to look up
they see me
I point
Heaven!
tucked tightly, wings pinned, I commence my take-off
like a fool gone wild I ride the envelope's curl
upward against immense gravity
to where there is no air, no light
onward to the pulsar's hum, ejecting spent stages
I soar
I vibrate and rattle, my needles all in the red
gears grind, metal teeth gnash
the beat-beat-beat of bleeding ear drums, tom-toms
the sound of planets birthed, of dying stars gone supernova
the roar of the wrath of the Almighty
a crescendo of harmony, a superchord
dissonance unlike anything I'd ever presumed godly
nothing is quiet, all of creation in a single sound
then suddenly, nothing but quiet, palpable calm
radiant beams of diffracted light, prisms halo
the myopic blur of the eternal afloat on the placenta of orbit
this is not an exit
this is the path
to re-entry
below me, the earth sleeps
dark and beautiful
awash in its indigo
together with the blue pearl
atop
the black
under the splay of Her jeweled hand
She points me at the wares
cc: CC 2022
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