Please don’t mourn or pity my brief hold
on this earth, like something frail or fine.
When I’m buried, say this life of mine
was more than striking glass and falling gold.
My home was at the edges of the sky
where time was as carefree as a breeze.
And I became the envy of the trees, when
I mastered the ineffable: to fly.
Be glad for me—I didn’t need to fight
cruelty in order to be free.
Unlike you, ruled by geography,
I broke the bounds of freedom on first flight.
And when I aimed for daylight in the glass,
I left the weight of earth beyond the past.