In an arc of swooped song, he rose to level, just a touch from the surface, dilating in slight, wavering motion, but no turbulence here; smooth and delicate, protracted angles, then on, up, & into, such height to eschew visibility to all.
Skywards through atmosphere, thinning, replaced, to face the vacuum of awe and wonder, with Everything at hand, and Oneness in mind. This is where we are born.
Floating. Weightless. Contemplating the stars. Our hydrogen Sun; perennially fusing and self-perpetuating. Limitless in the scope of a human lifetime. The full vista of Earth, which from the dust of said stars come before. At this elevation, for him alone, and with a single eye; taking the entire world and holding all, in his hand.
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