Wings


At the edge of a rocky abyss, stands a man quite amiss.
To his back is an incessant wind, the blistering sun,
And travels from which he has come.
The gravel crunches as he shuffles towards the rim
Of the newfound obstacle that defies him.
Gazing below, blackness devours the day.
He must continue, but can't find a way.
Scanning the darkness, he suddenly stops
When his eye catches something that pops.
In the black hole there is one crack.
A beacon of light, a purpose looking back.
A small entity floats and flutters,
Wonderfully comprised of so many colors.
Red, green, purple, blue,
Yellow and orange, with a long bill too.
He listens in amazement and awe,
Her beating wings echo off the wall.
Full of life and beauty, she dances in the air.
Something to love, a reason to care.
Deeper into the unknown she flies with no fear.
Gradually, the rift begins to clear.
He stares below at the delightful allure.
He has found his wings, his means to soar.
At the edge of a rocky abyss,
Stands a man no longer amiss.
He jumps.

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