Flight

I keep having dreams where I can fly. Like birds who don't have the hands to write, I don't have the wings to fly. How much time do we spend in envy of others? turning evolution into a decay of difference, as we define ourselves by what we are not. So we spend our years building metal wings to come closer to the heavens, too desperate to care how they melt in the face of the sun. The Icarus-complex that poisons us even while we're begged to pull back from the sky. But we see our greatest strengths as proof of vulnerability, broken metal in a weak chain. And so we fall down back to the earth, this time without wings or dreams.