Necropolis

Billowing

In a draft of air, in a shaft of light,
I am aloft, swift as a kite,
Swept up to the highest heights.

Elevated and elated by a spate of sound,
The breeze blows and I billow; it's all below me now,
As I achieve altitudes far above the ground.

Could I leave the lives of Atlas and Icarus behind?
I wish to be a sylph, instead, this time,
To fly free of the weight of the world, catching sight of the clouds' silver lines
Without falling.