Legend of the Living Drill
In a world twice-walled, of crystal clear,
A space unseen, a prison of fear.
Between two panes, a fly, held fast,
No egg was laid, no shadow cast.
A sudden blink, from there to here,
A puzzle spawned, to quell the tear.
Why was he placed in this glass tomb?
A silent jest, a sunlit room.
The panes so close, a breath away,
Where heat would build throughout the day.
The air grew thick, the world compressed,
A tiny heart beat in its chest.
A wave of fear, a buzzing dread,
Trapped in a space for what was dead.
But in that fear, a spark took hold,
A story waiting to be told.
For he was not some common drone,
On legendary wings he'd flown.
A legacy of grit and might,
Who turned from darkness to the light.
"I can do all," the thought took flight,
"And conquer this eternal light!"
This glassy cage would not decide,
The fate of one with so much pride.
An engine roared within his soul,
To make his fractured body whole.
The escape began, a frantic beat,
Wings flapped to an impossible feat.
A thousand times the normal pace,
He'd drill himself from this dreadful place.
Like corkscrew turning, sharp and fast,
A future from a painful past.
He put his head against the pane,
And pushed away the numbing pain.
His legs tucked in, a living drill,
He'd bend the glass to his own will.
A scraping sound, a tiny groove,
A body spinning, on the move.
Slowing cutting, grain by grain,
Ignoring all the dizzying strain.
Whip! It splintered. The glass gave in,
To let the outer world begin.
A twisting heat, a focused mind,
He left the airless tomb behind.
He drove his weight against the rift,
A frantic, final, upward lift.
With ancient strength, a sudden shove,
Cast from the dark by light and love.
He was out! The world a blur,
A dizzy, disoriented whir.
He couldn't stop, the spin and dive,
Just trying to remain alive.
He slowed and slowed, the spin decreased,
His frantic, panicked mind released.
He fought to gather all his sense,
And break the hold of the intense.
At last, the world came into view,
A place to land, somewhere brand new.
He found a perch, a simple spot,
To ponder the great fight he'd fought.
A hero fly, who broke the glass,
And let the final moment pass.
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