Flying

He flew low,
it was his choice,
safer, he thought,
in case of emergency.
A fall from the heights
can be painful, even fatal.
But over time and miles,
conditioned, then captured
by a shallow hope,
he mistook reflection for
reality. The watery shadow
beneath him beckoned, invited,
enticed. Come and fly
with me, it said, until one
day, still thinking the
shadow substance, he flew
down and down
slowly, moving closer
and closer to the
image now growing
larger and larger until
it was too late and he was
consumed by an Illusion.

If only he had dared to
soar, to risk the heights,
to rise with courage
above the shadowy mist,
to glide effortlessly in
the embrace of Light,
free of deception and restraint.

Light does not deceive.
Light will not. It cannot.
Light is the breath of the Sacred,
the place where angels play
in the smile of God.
See, Light comes with the morning.
Come, we shall fly today
in The Light.