I feel so far from anything throne-like
Apostasy is my refuge,
If I should fall from the sky like an eagle
Zipping toward its nest
Lower, yet high still
I’d wonder at the mist around me
Swallowing my young,
My purchase windswept.
Leaving the safety of their nest
I’d wing my way higher
For a closer look at the throne
Golden, yet somehow approachable
I’d duck my head, hide its baldness
Pick at my chest feathers
And wait to be recognized.