6.25.20 – Antiquos Sapientia

At that height
He could feel God’s breath on his back.
The Sun’s rays pushed sweat from his pores,
But, still, he persisted.

The answers he was looking for
Were right there,
Just above the clouds.

“Who are you?”

“Are you here?”

He stretched out his hand–
Exposing his burnt arm to the heavens–
Toward a crack in the sky.

He felt God’s Whisper wick against his wrists
For a moment
Until the Sun melted the wax in his wings,
And he fell back to the Earth.

*This is a personal poem not affiliated with any news item of the day

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