Stare into the sun and you 
Can't see the light
It's encompass north
As you measure the wind
From which preposition
A vivid consciousness arises

After going beyond
Where can one return
That's the trick of flight
To know the Icarian limit
And soar to only there

And yet to pull back
When excitation rules
There are more than twelve
Inches between the running 
Feats of nature-nurture:
Awareness can only brake so hard

Rote habit closely done
Will feel and sense and taste
The mire open yellow sun
Without the way of haste

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