Hurled,

I hurtle

past all known limits,

past boundaries prescribed

by time & role & habit

Breaking through

Breaking out

to soar

past cosmic clouds &

dust-filled nebulae

of scintillate light

God of Sun —

of Truth & Prophecy,

of Poetry, Music, Dance,

& Archery

My trajectory charts

the collapse of Time

in adrenaline speed

I am Apollo

What have I to fear?

Yet, I tremble…

tremble in unease

that the eyes of those

who hurled me forth

might glimpse the light

that sheens & skims

reflective on 

my polished skin

That to catch their eye,

their vigilant attention,

might reel me

     back

& in…

— C.Birde, 5/21