The heartbeat of the wing light
illuminates an instant of tiny raindrops,
Silver needles, frozen for a moment in time.
The night has a thickness, burdened
with the viscosity of darkness.
The earth below us is a pool,
reflecting the stars in its obsidian silence,
and in it are mirrored
all the vagueries of the night sky:
each star winks a secret to the next.
Scattered among this delicate trellis,
frost of the night sky,
burn embers, cinders glowing smoky orange from within,
knocked from some celestial torch
onto the black sands of the city.
And so all these eyes of the night city
blink at me in farewell, as I rise away
and slowly they are blinded by
majestic, darkened, pulled-cotton clouds.
As each sleepy point is put to bed,
we soar ever upwards like angels.
The heavy veil of darkness
becomes a sable desert landscape
of ripples and waves, and dreams.
And so ever forward we wing
a steel albatross, above our endless ocean
and for just one hour, we are all united
in being alone, apart,
For this brief eternity
we are no longer of this world.