Flight is freedom in its purest form,
To dance with the clouds that follow a storm.
To roll and glide, to wheel and spin,
To feel the joy that swells within.
To leave the earth with its troubles and fly,
and know the warmth of a clear spring sky.
Then back to earth at the end of the day,
Released from the tensions which melted away.
Should my end come while I am in flight,
On the brightest day or the darkest night,
Spare me your pity and shrug off the pain,
Secure in the knowledge that I’d do it again
For each of us is created to die –
And within me I know I was born to fly.