I used to move Heaven when once could use wings. But then paused in flying, forsaking finer things.
Held back for a ground dweller who refused to fly. Delayed even further as young learned to try.
Then found wings were broken as wrapping up tight. No matter my efforts, encountered more blight.
Then one launched and another as I fell on my head. Put shoulders to ground, shoving boulders instead.
Pushed out of my cave, found myself on a ridge. Could not leap with faith, so I clung as I’d dig.
Unmoveable rock only yielded going up. No water in my well – only dirt in my cup.
What I valued before has been back-filled and more. What dreams I had then have now passed through a door.
As find myself Elsewhere, still don’t know what for. Deep pain in the struggle stays a mystery, ever more.
—
(Reference to the phrase, “to move Heaven and earth”)
Candid Corvid Productions 