Anxious Concrete

I rise through the air in sleek metal-winged bird
Aviator, protect me from the ground
For I am not afraid of death,
only concrete.
And the bitter sting of blood in my eyes
Keeps me awake only long enough to check the kaput timepiece clinging to my wrist and ensure I'm still dead enough
to be alive.

I might disintegrate into thin air
That's okay
Tell them it's okay
Tell them he just wanted to leave teh world a better place than he found it
Tell his unborn son he loves him more than anything in the Kosmos
And bury his memory behind the dumpster where he used to get high
to learn about the meaning of Life.

Jake! I return to you in spirit
I can see now where you were going, always
And forgive me
for being confused -- I am just learning
A shiny new pawn in his first match
Against omniscient opponent.
I have more to learn from you, dear child,
than from all the aggregate words of Madmen that line the shelves of my study
Where Apollo and Dionysus grapple-hold my soul and drag me through the piteons of Paradox!

Ah, but Paradox, so very much our own human creation!
In Nature no Paradox,
only Motion
Re-Action remodeling
the Cosmic source
Continual and without pause
dynamic
And the 'I' inside
Stuck! --
in the static spiderweb models
synthesizing my understanding with objects around me,
my intellect like a receipt of my actions,
a builder of motionless model airplanes,
a driver of rearview mirrors.

My Father is Death and
Nature my Mother.
These parents, so opposed,
are the seeds of my triumphs and the vein of my suffering
Somewhere between the great white flash
of Father Death's beard
and the stones of crystal waters
is me, myself, my slice of reality so humbly allotted.

So protect me, o Aviator!
from the concrete below.
For I fear the harsh grit of your condemnation over
the cold unfeeling Death,
knowing that that Death
is an inextricable part
of my identity.

I thank the doe for allowing itself to fall in front of me.
I smile because...