By D. R. DiFrancesco

Staring into an ocean blue sky,

Gliding,

Cradled in the silvery wings of a bird,

So close God,

So close to heaven I can almost touch it.

This must be what it is like to die,

What it is like to ascend into the afterlife,

Weightlessly soaring,

Song of birds a symphony,

Leading my soul skyward,

Sun warm and inviting on my face,

Clouds of virginal white clothe me,

Comforting my weary essence.

At peace,

This must be what it is like,

What it is like to almost touch heaven,

On the wings of the silvery bird.