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I come also to listen,
changing my point of view like a bird
darting from perch to perch with invisible ears;
hearing the clearest strains from the throb of my own pulse.

I rise to embrace, wanting to know,
yet everything rises faster still, just beyond the tip of each wing.
I cannot return to the same perch
for nothing remains unaltered, especially myself.

I hear Sermons trumpeting among the clouds
pretending to be thunder;
yet it is my soul that flashes,
knowing nothing more divine than itself.

I see the walls of Nations draw lines on the land
and my bones rebel against the gravity;
I refuse to be defined by anything that pulls
and curse the fatigue my aching muscles betray.

I sense reflections beneath the surface
below where the water is quiet and shadows dance
like a pair in the act of becoming parents;
a good place to stop and drink.

I have learned love
as if inventing it.

I have wrestled life
as if it made a difference.

I have rearranged the songs
as if singing with the Creator’s voice.

Flight © 1977/1998 by Tobin James Mueller
"Lustre" published by Freedom Press.
All rights reserved.