Unscorched

Head bows down
As eyes rise in knowing
Arms lift from their sides and expand upward, yet
In artful manner wrists point downward
Suddenly, as the head flings back, a mighty breath is drawn
Soar is on the mind as plumage is gained in breadth and width
Take flight and gaze below!
What dost thou see?
The pan from space shows no true topography from this height
As the dimensions tri are missing from view
Flat as a pan does the panning hold
View a form of what function
At present, I see only a two dimensional view
Perhaps a greater survey is necessary
From the top down or bottom up
To find that which, from a distance, cannot be detailed out
Yet upon closer inspection, I fall to earth
Bound by muck and mire
I free my being and leave my plumage behind
Until I rise again
Fly again
To gain a greater perspective
Gratefully, I have not been scorched by the sun ~ Arachne ~ December 6, 2009 @ 12:58 a.m. EST