The Rudiments of Wings
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From predawn birth, you dwell alone,
Preferring deep shadowland over light.
So much easier to conceal what is shown,
Nascent ember forelimbs that daunt your sight.
With growth in undying murk, and wings in flames
In brilliant reds, yellows, golds all blazing.
Flying is hopeless with birds of other names.
Passions rage from wings, arresting, so amazing.
Oh firebird, searing, sizzling, soaring, scorch,
Torrid your dazzling, craving fiery force.
You blister iron night like a blowtorch,
A fuming, fever unleashed from an innate source.
Transfixing terror, tormenting trusted truth,
Firestorm fervency awakened in sleep zones.
Fire wings of lasting, lusting, lingering youth.
Each breath covets and dreads your roaring cyclones.
Your infernal dance, your ardent limbic rapture
Descending, curling, exploding, and unfurling,
Brassy, flammable breeze is dream conjure,
Ascending, arcing, igniting in fine sterling.
Oh firebird, you rise from rudimentary wings,
From embryonic burnings, and larval aspirations,
From timid beginnings to radiant pinion waving,
with Inspiration, you bring her brother, Trepidations.
Date: 02/24/2022
Title: The Rudiments of Wings Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Copyright © Thomas Wells | Year Posted 2022
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