Living in Superlatives

What satisfies the soul.

Imagine me reaching for stars
and gathering same,
unbridled in swagger
tallest fastest handsomest...
grandstanding gadabout
free and Superman
convinced of my significance.
What soot, then, would speckle
me in moisture-laden air,
what parchment of Earth
would dare swallow my shadow?
Diminished by none,
I swoop and swirl
above high-rise windows
consigned to elevation,
an exercise in arrogance,
the Devil’s backbone.
Yet amid new constellations
it may be said that equilibrium
is fleeting, wherein it becomes
plain that achievement pales
in comparison to the reach.


22 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
3-2-15