flight

Breath (from the book Blue Bridge)Whispering to myself With every step I take,Trying out names, for I know There is something yet to be called _..I know it, something up ahead Just around the bendOr over the rise _ A bird taking to the skyFrom the edge of a jagged cliff _ A bird floating outwardsIn silence _. A silence Waiting for a footstepTo crunch on stones, For a voice to fling upwardThrough sharp sunlight With a name_ callingBefore the bird could call Before the bird called.Oh the bird was there alright And sure it took flightWhen it heard me approach But it broke my heartWith a mighty croak!So I__ sitting here playing With a purple flowerSlender stem, no leaves Purple fizz __nd it__ quiet again. I am stillI am nothing And the hillIs a long, long slope Down, down, down to the seaFar below.I could roll I could runI could scream But I am nothing.A cool wind blows And the light is naked and namelessAnd the rocks are faces of angels And the bird in the sky wheelsAnd cries to forget the earth And its ancient bones __h, sensual pain _ Wings_. Wings_. Wings,Singing wings.If only I could begin To describe the emptinessWhich fills me to the brim With new breathI might almost lose my name And take instead a feather for my soul.

You never needed wings to fly,You only needed love.

The rising of birds in their flight is the sign of an ambuscade. Startled beasts indicate that a sudden attack is coming.

For everything in this journey of life we are on, there is a right wing and a left wing: for the wing of love there is anger; for the wing of destiny there is fear; for the wing of pain there is healing; for the wing of hurt there is forgiveness; for the wing of pride there is humility; for the wing of giving there is taking; for the wing of tears there is joy; for the wing of rejection there is acceptance; for the wing of judgment there is grace; for the wing of honor there is shame; for the wing of letting go there is the wing of keeping. We can only fly with two wings and two wings can only stay in the air if there is a balance. Two beautiful wings is perfection. There is a generation of people who idealize perfection as the existence of only one of these wings every time. But I see that a bird with one wing is imperfect. An angel with one wing is imperfect. A butterfly with one wing is dead. So this generation of people strive to always cut off the other wing in the hopes of embodying their ideal of perfection, and in doing so, have created a crippled race.

I had a dream about you last night... I think flying saucer activity is pretty easy to explain; if I had one, I'd go joyriding too.

There was some rhythm, some ecstasy in this dance of flight that expressed the fact that happiness which touches depths and rises beyond physical confines is as old as consciousness, yet ever renewed, and is like the glorying flight of the birds

[His eyes are] Atlantic Ocean blue, just like he'd said. It's strange because of course I'd known that. But the difference between knowing it and seeing them in person is the difference between dreaming of flying and flight.

Like officer Dave.He's never said much about his life, but I can tell he's scarred. And he knows I'm scarred too. The wounded always recognize the wounded. We can smell each other.

Flying might not be all plain sailing, but the fun of it is worth the price.

Every bird that flies has the thread of the infinite in its claw.

Daughter, daughter, shining brightPrecious jewel within mine sightOh, if I could soar with theeAs you seek your destiny.To see with you the caves and skiesVistas grand beneath your eyesTaking wing to horizons newLet us wonder who waits for you.A dragon bright?A dragon dark?Victor of duels with battle mark?A dragon strong?A dragon keen?Singer of honors and triumphs seen?Red, Gold, Bronze, and BlueTo your lord you shall be true,Copper, Silver, Black, and White,Who will win your mating flight?For in your hearts our future restsTo see our line with hatchlings blessedAnd for those who threaten clutch of flame,To feel the wrath of dragon-dame.

I am still alone, broken and small, the butterfly fighting for life in the grass.

I am well convinced that Aerial Navigation will form a most prominent feature in the progress of civilization. (1804)

Even the bees I'd swear were sent to protect us in the delicate business of hives and honey are stung to silence by the news that something winged has lost its flight.

What are you doing to me?_ he asked the crow, tearful. Teaching you how to fly. __ can__ fly!_ You__e flying right now. ____ falling!_ Every flight begins with a fall, the crow said.

Since I can't turn into a bat and fly, I'll still need my bus pass

Pain is a pesky part of being human, I've learned it feels like a stab wound to the heart, something I wish we could all do without, in our lives here. Pain is a sudden hurt that can't be escaped. But then I have also learned that because of pain, I can feel the beauty, tenderness, and freedom of healing. Pain feels like a fast stab wound to the heart. But then healing feels like the wind against your face when you are spreading your wings and flying through the air! We may not have wings growing out of our backs, but healing is the closest thing that will give us that wind against our faces.

Flying in his dreams was an exhilarating, breathtaking experience, sometimes literally, that tended to leave reality wanting, like riding a roller coaster compared to mowing the lawn.