Fly

You fly. You do. Have seen you flapping your enormous pristine glossy wings over the azure on the hills. From where the view is breath taking. Every single thing looks the same. Everything looks minuscule, tiny. So tiny that it can be espoused. That it can be held between arms. That it can be captured in the immaculate lens of the magical eye. All things red or yellow, cold or warm, soft or rough, weak or tough seem to melt in the heat of your intense rays. If all melt then why do some images re-reflect in the mirror? Days, weeks, months, years, even decades later…

Mirror that was long lost in the battle field. Assumed to be trampled under the heavy foot of mammoth. But it shines once again when the clouds get overcast. When the dark waters from the fringe inundate. When the spirit refuses to wake. Suddenly giving hope of the sun tomorrow. Of the seed emerging as sapling. Of the broken pieces coming together.

But you fly. You do. And again you will. Over the lush green valleys. Over the singing streams. And where will the mirror go? Fly away with you or stay in the closet this time? Forever…