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As with an egret folding
its wings around its white body
by instinct, and not
as a deliberate
punctuation of flight,
as flight is part of its nature
and it hasn’t known life without it
as the nautical aspirations
of wind will descend
by its side as its feet
touch solid ground without
being told, except maybe
in the beginning,
when the groundwork for physics
was lain so that
the wind and all things natural
with have a nature to follow
and you won’t have to
worry about it
being lost
or at a loss
of how to be,
so will I know how to ascend
until the pressure is such that
it no longer hurts the air
not because the pressure
has relented, but
because it has taught the air’s
gentleness to demand its share,
so will I recognize
when it passes by
that path that has borne
my footprints even before
I learned to walk, the path
that leads up and onwards
to all that is irreproachable
and sharp,
and cold.

* * *

As the cliffside must interrupt
the raging ego of the sea,
as the earth must stop rainfall
as it collides with gravity,
as hunger, or thirst
must remind the bird
of its mortality
despite its command
of solitude and high altitudes,
so is my need of your love
the exception requisite
for the ruling hand to be iron,
the line in black ink
responsibly, mercifully
left on the shining white sheet
and makes it
entitled to exist.

untitled photo
from the image bookmarking site, WeHeartIt