Whyte light

Lean out,
breathe in.
Step off,
take it in.
You will fly
they praise.
My wings must be wet.

Whyte, white light
from acme to abyss
this mountainous
poet dragon
echoed across
my blood river valleys

and Up
I aimed a gaze.
My eyes-directing
my eyes where I wished-

Like the flower
happy to bloom,
in bloom
noticing the ever-changing
view.

Left with these notions

what must come down?
Come down
what must,
what must...



Painting by Thomas Moran, 'Mountain of the Holy Cross', c. 1890 in [Public domain].