What Is Missing

I am a lion, a high-soaring bird,
I'm coiling and hissing a softly hot word.
I am a spirit with amorous wings,
A mouth that can only spill words if it sings.
I am light, not shadow or gravity –
I am a painful and dark black cavity.
Do you know what all I say? I’m smiling
And as I laugh, do you know who I’m styling
My soul against? An abyssal dragon
Has flown into dark clouds and sky – an agon,
War whipping my soul into strong and hard
Long-living spirit that will always stand guard
And bring a gift for all of mankind. Gift?
It’s in a box, a box brought up from a rift,
A box I carry down and carry up –
I cannot touch lunch or drink from a cool cup
Until my body and my blood turn warm
And I unfold again my old human form.
A monstrous animal or living light –
A spirit that in its good growth fashions flight
From fast-growing wings that lift us aloft –
Shall all of us grow hard, or stupid, soft?
I had to go down to climb mountaintops,
This light gift . . . I laugh, so that no laughing stops.