Flight


We were in flight, you and I,
turning in the darkened room.

We know that men must die;
we were the living.

Cutting away disease, compassion,
fatigue, this compass spins in quiet rooms.

Important gestures are lost,
some causes are just, some flights

Justified. We were the living.
We know that men must die.

Even as we dance with shadows,
Warm shadows, red, thrown by flame,

Smoke signals come from god, simple
as candlelight. These too are whispered away.

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