This is his path to the wind
the last white segment of the earth
he sprung from: and his birth
has come to this small cockpit
and this last white road
the earth has sinned.
This is his way to the sun
the airscrew turns and coughs,
breaks into thunder, he takes off
into the sunlit distances of space
and in one home
tears have begun.
This is his road to death
his last objective, and his coronation
the chosen king of a chosen nation
that has no land but love,
his posthumous decoration,
the sanction of his breath.
(Bruce Bain)
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