These Wings


These wings
That carry me
Are not mine
Though they are of
My body,
My mind,
My soul.

Those pains
That ached
Are no longer mine,
Now just shedding skins
Creating rainbows
As they fall to the ground
With every magical wave
Of my feathery appendages.

I am all
I am more;
I am none
I am less
And no one, too.

Footprints four
Footprints two
No longer in sand
No longer chiseled
On Earth’s bedrock;
They made a path
Of my past,
But not my present,
But not my future.

These wings
Instead make prints
Across endless sky,
Through glowing rays,
And calming ascendance…


© Copyright 2016 by John David Higham

Picture: Windfall Sunset August 22, 2016

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