A poem that was emailed to me at the time, apologies to those who have seen it before. I d love to know who wrote it, if any one knows. :confused:
Flight is freedom in its purest form,
to dance with the clouds which follow a storm;
to roll and glide, to wheel and spin;
To feel the joy that swells within;
To leave the earth with its troubles and fly,
and know the warmth of a clear spring sky;
Then back to earth at the end of the day,
released from the tensions which melted away.
Should my end come while I am in flight,
Whether brightest day or darkest night; ,
Spare me your pity and shrug off the pain, –
Secure in the knowledge that I’d do it again;
For each of us is created to die,
And within me I know I was born to fly.
God Bless Mark…
Sign In
