Aviator

Wild wind, cunning zephyr that tears at my thin coat
You expect me to fly. Tug at my trailing filmy paper wings
Transparent fingers of thought that flap behind me as I jog along
Look to the courage that I know I have, that you know I have,
Smile at me; let me lean on some kind of fortitude, intrepidity
Catch me in your encouraging current, fling me forward
Forward toward the sky in desperate attempt of volation
Push me, shove me with the motion, build the momentum,
Feet barely touching the ground, now flick my wings outward,
Hope to God they hold a shape, flutter them up and down,
No time for a trial run, this is reality, feet aren't touching the ground
Thin paper wings suddenly snap open with possessed vigor,
Stronger than crêpe paper could ever be, my wings of euphoria unbound,
Soar up into the abyss of nothing with a cry of joy: withheld so long,
Now, toss me to the wind, that cunning zephyr
Teach me to fly, my mentor, my friend!