Ever On the Wing

And there it goes, my flight of fancy

Off into the wind, ascending well above my reach

It acts like a dream, only in reverse

Though I’ve never considered myself sibylline

My back side held fast to my seat

As I imagine the clouds above this opaque ceiling

Shifting shapes in tantalizing transmogrification

It is in this rectitudinous pareidolia I am sated

Yet in the same mist I breathe in the vitriol

That saturates my proprietary space

And when the air is heavier than my leaden heart

Mayhaps I shall sink into the depths of Alluvium

My dear Elysium, promise to visit

That I might taste the air belonging to the reaches of the furthest mountains

My dear Erewhon, rescue me

That I might not decay, but be ever on the wing of the sea-faring albatross