you know how we group around
the slow and progressively challenged,
trucks and busses on highways—
the same motion hurries the effect,
seizes the flow of traffic by the nape;
the mare swims swift, passed the stallion,
but he who endures wins long the long race.
further, go, with or without me, tell me
when we turn our ways, layingly.
who can slow the roads down
and lead us the way, with fuel saved,
is no matter of muscle or speed,
but one of knowing the time,
where the road has stretched for you:
you can tail and be tailed here,
but there is no personal space
high in the sky, eye to eye
all are, in ranks like angels
but given well their free will,
they swim and sing and cry out—
o didn’t he know, man, his lack
and his love are the same
until you believe otherwise—
and there you are, head of the pack,
racing through sunlight like petals
washing the air with their sun-kissed scent,
and the winds are blowing his way,
while the flocks crowd around the sunset,
performing their sky-born rituals
without borders or slow delay

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