The Power Of Flight Poem by Peter Jones

To dream of flying, across the rooftops
and out over the coal black sea.
To shed the weight that holds me down
I flex my untroubled muscles
unexpectedly.

The final hours will quickly flee the field
no excuses now.
No reasons for undue delay.
To stand upon the edge
forever is no option.
If I must fly
I fly today.

And on that edge, upon the dream,
I simply step - take just one pace
and fly exultant in the night
of nights unwitnessed;
save for the keeper of the gate
who may not recognise
my face.

Do I fall or do I fly?
The first short step will soon tell me
that, if I fall,
in swooping down,
so shall someone say of me
that in his inconsequential way
he tried to fly, in valediction,
unexpectedly