LANDSCAPE WITH FLYING MAN
His father fixed those wings to carry him away.
They carried him halfway home, and then he fell.
And he fell not because he flew,
but because he loved it so. You see,
it’s neither pride, nor gravity but love
that in the end will pull us back down to the world.
Love furnishes the wings, and that same love
will watch over us as we drown.
The soul makes a thousand crossings; the heart, just one.
© John Glenday