We flew up.
Before the blue face
of the animated sky
we laughed cycles.

In classical terms: we danced the light away.

No sense, then, that now
to crush the spark
(de rigeur in some quarters)
was the coin of exchange.
The imperative of a guided economy of creativity.

We flew up.
This movement spread,
wings were opened,
times became events.
An imperative to shine.

There was a penalty here,
a goal-crossed price to pay,
and we were willing partners
to that crime.

Animated, we held heads high
lifting arms and twirling
for the rest.
Freedom was ours,
we would take it
or suffer by not.
Failure be damned.


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