Flying

Would you want to be able to fly? 

To be able to glide over cityscapes and forests? 

To look down upon everyone as they live their lives? 

To feel the wind on your face and to close your eyes as you glide? 

Perhaps you worry about flying because of fear. 

You fear ending up like Icarus, so consumed by joy that all common sense leaves your body. 

So delighted that you can finally reach the sky that you forget the sun's heat upon your skin. 

Worried that as you fall only then will you notice your burning flesh and your charred hair. 

Only as gravity shoves you back down to earth will you regret touching the sky. 

Will you regret that small moment of joy that cost you your life? 

Would you want to be able to fly?