Flying

To be part of the blue sky up above,
To elevate from this place, and rise up HIGH,
To flap my arms and look down, eyes wide with fear,
At how high off the ground I've gotten,
Is to really be flying.

To soar without fear of falling,
And be closer to the Unknowns of this World,
To float invincibly, parting the air I move through,
And the clouds through which I float,
Like a swimmer's stroke in the water,
Is to really be flying.

To be seen Black, streaking across Blue,
T-shaped, moving left to right across the sky,
In spurts of flapping and gliding alternately,
To be envied for being airborne by those on the ground,
Is to really be flying.

To be looked up to by the green trees,
Reaching for light with which to grow,
To hold the Sun that illuminates the Earth,
To transport planes and people across the Globe,
And hold the Souls from below me behind my Pearly Gates,
Is to really be flying.
-Akeem Lawrence, 6/8/08