Silhouette the Sun;
In soft focus, you blot the bright streetlamp-
Like blackest shadow, have no sharp edges-
But your halo pierces.
You distant, watchful Lord,
High priest of your endless domain,
How regal are you! - And how small.
How alone.
Is there solace for you, are your wings your prayer?
Surfer of ethereal tides, do you float and ride?
Or is there only struggle, to rise, to hunt,
To suspend, to dive, to seek a season’s love?
As days turn coil to spring;
As sky turns clear to water;
As you fly into your shadow, observant,
With your Eagle’s keen eyes, tell me!:
Can you see yourself?