we all speak the language of flight,
as emotions in our hearts.
and vision in our minds,
as the whimsy of leaves in their free-fall,
the dedicated passage of cloud-herds grazing,
super fast jets stream-sounding their signature.
even the hand-scripted flight of a disc
is a personal message sent out by every launch,
where by the carving of air
is its message and its deliverance.
so much to learn from the articulations themselves.
they tell the story of air occupancy in carriage,
earnestness released by the hand,
to let space carved, speak for me
as the invisible choir of buoyancy pervades.
this flight takes me aboard in deliverance.
this is what I have to say to you,
by spacial elocution,
by our back and forth transmittals.
we converse in language of declared sacred space.
sure, every catch is punctuation added to affirm
but each release teases my soul in confirmation.
we speak in a language that uses the breath of earth
to pronounce and confirm,
to make oneself sight-heard,
lest we forget the mystery of flight itself.
for we are captivated,
to then speak this other language.
and to know of each other in deeper ways
from what is said in flight
and acknowledged by catch.
we now share of a greater whole
with the planet’s dynamics in service to our needs.
for the disc is the tongue in the mouth of flight
and, I say to you,
what can’t be said
in any other way . . .
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