These Wings Poem by Max Gatrell

Upon these wings I oft abscond,
Ascension to a holy place,
Extracted from this fetid pond,
To capture God’s eternal grace,
For a moment I remain,
Suspended by a silver thread,
Raised above my earthly pain,
Until these wings I sadly shed,
Alas the journey’s very short,
Hence a feather I shall score,
And by this pinion I bought,
Again alight on Heaven’s shore.
When I hear the spheres in song,
Through benighted thoughts they cleave,
If it’s there that I belong,
Then why am I compelled to leave?
Upon this earthly plane I’m cast,
A realm of twisted views,
To rue my present and my past,
And paths I didn’t choose.