Dressed
in magical formulas,
you are.

Creating fantasy
out of traditional lanes,
you seem.

Creeping under the passion
of invisible planes,
you love.

You turn on
the engine.

Old plans
will fly until
they become
exploding birds
of imagination.

Soaring, roaring,
as if nothing else
were there to be
conquered
because all has been
surrendered to your voice.

Deep as your imagined
galleries of hope
that reinterpret
the way life is observed
from a shallow name
into a flush of royal love.