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| Becker, Eye of the Beholder |
Life is a winged thing.
Fragile—fleeting—flies by—
a beautiful accessory to the self.
After life, still the being lifted by the color of its cavern.
Wings are like doors—opening and closing—
moving us in and out of our small worlds
and enormous lives.
Though still only ornament—and instrumentation.
Doors reveal sunlight. Play with the moon.
Protect what’s inside.
Allow entrance to exploration.
Enable one to stay or to leave.
Life is a winged thing.
Fragile—fleeting—flies by—
a beautiful accessory to the self.
After life, still the being lifted
by the color of its cavern.