I will soar

on

Perched, precarious
rushing for land
or horizon
A generous, cold embrace
for anyone
anything encountered.
Pure power,
surging, guttural
The resolution is fraught
with violent potential
In a frantic search
for some minute fissure
Through which to pour
that sliding inevitable
Once it creeps,
finally in motion
I will soar.

Photo: GollyGforce, Creative Commons.

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