SPIRIT WINDOWS

I hold the torch, unlit
high above past Olympus,
I reach for the sun
seeking the spark,
my wings not of Icarus
Gold tipped of the brightest flames,

I have chased the brave
across Valhalla, warrior
of a sacred garden touching
the light of ancestors,
the stars of the creator

and if the morning star
would dare, an adversary
to dance upon the rings of Saturn
judged by the moon

we are and will be, new stars,
learning, until we find home.