BY MCDOG, 3RD YEAR, LAS POSITAS COLLEGE
Flying high & plunging deep, an eagle lit
with golden wings is balanced by the rise
and by the fall.
Its quill a bridge –a convex gleam– with
which we shall naively raise our cenotaphs.
Monuments to memories, eroded by soft
tears & winds of laughter. Weakening in
quiet years as sanity it wanes unto a distant
star.
For there’s no tool in this blue dome to
fasten time; only colors woven by the fleeting
day.
A secret known to those who’ve flown,
acknowledging no pattern but the motions of
chaos beneath their wings.
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