Art by Norman E. Masters
| to fly! burst free from childhood's hedging world, to lift the arms as wings and soar, escaping four walled rooms and ogres by magic windows opening outward to thin blue bouyant air. (within the darkened world of sleep we each knew well the way to fly and where). in time, escaping from the chafing wheel of chores set into motion in some dim beginning of Man finding voice, concocting words, shuffling and reshuffling each inventive thought like tarot cards -- with eyes set on the flight of geese, clouds traveling jet streams, silver and red machines, and even white of angel wings, we dream to fly, as if inherent in the flesh encumbered soul there is a craving for a disconnection with the Earth, an old desire to find some unrestricted joy tugs at us even as a fastened leaf is tugged in wind. |
