If honey ran in mountain streams
the sugar sparkling in moonbeams
and I could hear the screech-owl’s screams
would I then have the sweetest dreams…
Of flying into starlight
with very keen eyesight
having a smooth flight
upon the winds of night?
Would I return with morning sun
the majic of my wings undone
or shattered by the hunter’s gun
(perhaps a god was having fun)?
To then become a man again
staring at the horizon
sheltered in an empty den
the earth’s poor earth-bound citizen?
Would I keep flying into space
to some far, timeless secret place
not to rejoin the human race
as cosmic winds caress my face?
I would prefer the last
and not think upon the past
That time when I was one of you
Unless you wish to travel too….
I thought you would.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr.
June 25th, 1983
The Sweet, Wise Cosmic Dream / Assorted Absurdities (a poetry collection)
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Beyond Panic 