Individual
What is the goose without the flying vee?
Solitary, ugly, fleeing frost alone,
Beating wings without respite as the gale comes on,
Trying not to feel the winter in his bones.
And yet, and still, he hears the solitary calling:
"Transcend, traverse, fly on alone!"
Pushing the horizon to its limit,
Sucking the marrow from life's bones.
The unknown lonely waits, blue yonder question.
To stay, to seek, to yearn, and still to feel.
Only he can know what lies ahead,
And, helmsman craft in one, he must decide.
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