M. Rephun (c) November 14, 2007
He soared up toward the skies, his soul
Drowning in a light that extinguished him.
He built paper wings, flew into the sun,
And we never saw him again.
Hyperion gathered him into his arms
In a warm embrace that seared his flesh
Until nothing remained but the bones
Gathered in a shimmering ivory mound.
Sometimes, they say,
If you look into the sun
On a dark day
You can see his smile
Flaring on the surface
Ironic, and
Somewhat malcontent
But I wouldn’t do that
It might just
Be the end
Of any future flights you have in mind.
