Passenger

image

I am Icarus,
screaming
down on fire,
winged shadow
over the bright
carapaces
of the driving
creatures
below.

These shells
enclose our
mortal flesh
and warm
hearts beating,
whether aflight
or returned
to ground.

For a moment
we are clouds,
vapor passing
before the sun.

Then clay
calls to clay
and we come
back to earth
into other
metal walls
until the next
winged steed
draws us
into the
sky again.

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