Flight Part 2

A man, pure cobalt eyes.
Blue suit, red boots and cape.
Yellow shield on his chest,
a red “S” in the middle.

He crouches down, leg muscles
full of energy waiting to release.
He throws his fist into the air, almost
lifting him off the ground as he leaps.


Oh the power of flight: to be so
strong as to overpower the tyranny
of gravity, the oppression that pins
everything to the ground, despair.

Flight: an act of sheer strength over
nature; a moment of pure joy that
only you can enjoy; a feat that is wholly
yours, until you wish to land. Freedom.

No more does the hopelessness and despair
Of life hold you. No more does life crush
You down. Race, creed, socio-economics
Are all a matter of the ground, not sky.

Nature has been conquered, defeated,
Routed in your victory. Smile and strut.
Go where you will, do what you will.
All look to you in hope and inspiration.


But is it freedom? Is it the victory
you have so sorely sought? Is it
a new tyranny in itself? Is it a
different form of slavery?

You are alone in the vast expanse
of the heavens. No one to share in
your conquest, your victory. No one
fly with in the brush strokes of life.

Gravity has been overturned and
thereby time has lost his grip on you.
The predator has lost its teeth. Its
claws have been filed down to naught.

But as time releases you everyone
else remains in its clutches. They are
still its slaves. They live and die.
You have become immortal, not them.

And that is the greatest defeat in
pursuit of flight. Immortality comes
at a cost that is never considered. No
one is ready to pay the price of flight.

~ by hankimler on January 27, 2015.

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