Up into the snail-pace car-a-pace, again, and again; yet again, we travel.
Following each others' journey, lured into false drive-by glimpses of freedom that we will not-soon exit, it becomes obvious what little welcoming space remains, still.
E for Eagle:
Where few dare venture, as we come to fear finding the courage to drive our selves to such a height.
D for Dove:
Still, only the ossified bones rendered sterile in the absence of this implied softness--'dove', my arse!—inappropriately applied in some office, through a discerned lack of Usability.
C for Cardinal:
Without a peep, we stair-step by, haunted by its breadth--deep breath--in the smell of thousands upon thousands of footsteps, bleeding their loss up and down the ramps that lead to forgotten memories.
B for Bluebird:
The colourless reminder of which leads into the wings of forgetfulness; to no sky: what lies, there, we were told in the freedom of falsehood.
A for Audubon:
The classification which lies, upon a foundation of entrapment that divides and sections what should have been, does thus merely conquer beauty.
Leaving, this shell, all the paces behind reflected in what lies ahead, it is we who are crushed under the weight if its complexity.
Gladly, we will not look back.
Sadly, we will soon return.
Winship Cancer Center; Emory; May 18, 2015
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