fly far, far from here.
dipping, swooping, swirling on outstretched wing,
a blur through mottled sun.
were, that I a bird,
on high, and low, from cloud to vale,
miles apart from place to place.
Were that I a bird
flit pas the edge of vision,
to fade gently in to the horizon,
a ghost of memory past.
Were that I a bird,
on bended wing to soar,
out of past, out of future,
never more.
