orbital

Nothing has been up it feels like for ages
I'm kind of in stasis
The orbit decays, as 
an offsetting uplift upholds from within, but 
I'm on more and more 
my own power and spin 

As momentum and swing 
- gravity, plus a miss - 
once provided, could arc 
on forever like this,
at least, 'til it dies. 
Has me slipping away 

from your lightening grasp, 
it's amazing I hold my own sway
so fast on this path as I wheel
and your axle diminishes
slow, by feel wearing off 
by degrees as rotations go wide, 

Almost none of the hold 
being yours, now. Alas.
Almost all of it's mine,
and a lonely ride. This force 
that had fixed us encircling time,
in peace and calm bliss. Like
something that science 
tried hard to resist,
has become a sign.  

I should have flown shotwise 
right out into space, but the uplift
within (which you gave, I've since
taken and made) soars to outpouring 
red in this gauge - what keeps me 
so spinning about you instead
of flown off from this beautiful
gravity cage?

- On a trip past the stars and the hearts 
and the moons, in shapes drawn like
clovers and diamonds and charms!
I don't know what keeps me.
It's not safe from harm.
It's almost not you, 

anymore.

And I sense with alarm
if this hold doesn't break of itself
and fly off, in the moment your gravity
well goes finally empty, flat and dry, 
and fails and lets go, sets me free,
lets me fly,
lets me loose

I shall lose

all the uplift from old reasons
why, that grew
in ascending
and plaintive strains
to keep me upon, held me up
in this old, grown use. And I'll plunge 

through the air
like a cloud
in flames
like a cloud
made of stone. If you saw 
through the blur, you'd say
it 
was
a sheep! All alone 
without shepherd, or feather
to flock. Not holding
together - apart, it would break 
and burn up mid-air, mid-drop,

to a glittering, somehow
suspended, still spark.